#i mean its not any less stupid but ya know

[alatismeni-theitsa]

In "KAOS" nothing is anything, and everything is wrong

Two disclaimers: I am no stranger to modern art, and I have no issue with queerness in shows, or in my own mythology (I'm Greek). I am also aware that KAOS is a comedy. It's in the gutter of British comedy, but still part of the genre. At least I laughed every time they said "Oh God!". I don't believe this is the same person who wrote the great and amusing "End of the F**king World"! The premise of "The gods in our modern world" appeals to me a lot, so that wasn't my problem either. My general issue with KAOS is its horrible delivery, bad writing, and piss-poor Greek representation.

This is gonna be long and full of stupid gifs, so sit comfortably, grab a coffee or some popcorn and... pame!

The "ILoveGreekMythology" Kid

Art without context is just a pretty thing to look at. Most of the time, this context can be found within the art piece itself, as the artist has taken care to weave it in. KAOS refuses to connect itself to any context besides the names and a few vague powers. It aims to exist outside of those "boring old stories of the Greek myth" and be entirely "fresh and modern". Something impossible when the entire show and the meanings are based on ancient recorded material. In other words, KAOS is so meta that it ends up being nothing. KAOS cannot stand on its own because you need more than the viewers being familiar with the Greek myth basics to pull such a show off.

KAOS tells us "See? I know all the names of the gods, and what they did, and I know all the locations, so I am qualified to tackle this". More or less like any Western kid who takes all their knowledge from PJO and Marvel and proceeds to unironically hate ancient deities and make a girlboss out of Medusa.

Here's a Greek word for you guys, ημιμάθεια, meaning "half-knowledge". Α Greek saying very well declares "Half-knowledge is worse than no knowledge". The confidence of thinking you know enough often leads you to grave mistakes whereas the humility of not knowing prevents you from touching shit that you shouldn't. When you have no idea what the original myth is trying to say and spit on its meaning, knowing a few names and locations is just smoke and mirrors. I don't believe the audience fell for that.

And don't get me started on the "subversions". A good subversion is intriguing and thought-provoking. In KAOS, every twist was hollow - Greek myth related or otherwise.

"What if Euridice doesn't love Orpheus?" I don't know, babe. What if??? What was the point of that? What did you show us? That women's stories are dominated by men and men don't listen to women, perhaps? And you chose to twist... the love story of Orpheus and Euridice to show this?? One of the best and most tragic love stories Greek mythology has to offer?? You just mocked the myth, you didn't make anything profound out of it.

The Greek Stuff (Nothing salvageable)

I was surprised to see they had a Consulting Producer (Georgia Christou) and an Assistant Script Editor (Isabella Yianni) who happen to be Greek. And I stress that because those people probably weren't hired or utilized for being Greek. We are not sure they were involved in cultural decisions because we have no evidence and because shows with no Greek elements can have more Greeks than that on their staff.

Okay, perhaps they took 5 seconds to ask Isabella about a greeting - which they proceeded to say in a wrong intonation 🙄🤌It's where Poseidon says "ya sás" in the Fates, by the way. How he said it sounds more like "for you (pl.)" than "health to you (pl.)".

Surprise! The only Greek actor present (Peter Polycarpou) has less than 5 minutes of screen time and plays the caricature of an immigrant with a thick (and inaccurate Greek) accent. He has a canteen, selling falafel which is not Greek, and Dionysus buys from him an unidentified tortilla wrap (which... is also not Greek, if you haven't caught up).

For the show they brought in actors of Maori, Nigerian and Sierra Leonean, Pakistani, Black American, Latvian-Jewish, Iranian, Egyptian, Indo-Fijian and Malay descent and you tell me it was impossible for them to seek and find an English-speaking, skilled actor of Greek descent in a show regarding Greek heritage. Sometimes I wonder, do y'all hate us so much?

They considered Greeks only to give us a simple (and wrong) greeting and a stereotype. Crumbs, we are supposed to be happy with. By the way, there are over 70.000 Greek immigrants just in the UK, usually in the urban centers, many of them students or fairly young employees in the corporate workforce. Not the largest minority but not hard to spot either.

Another plague of Anglophone shows: Almost everyone's Greek name is shortened. Yes, we know their full names but we are told that we will use the short ones. Greeks and their "long and difficult" names am I right fellas? Because saying "Ariadne" apparently requires 5 years of Greek language training, and no English word ever has more than two syllables.

Coincidentally, short names are cool in Anglophone imaginary universes and the "long" names are not. it's so strange Anglophones never make universes where it's cool for Greek names to be spoken in full hmmm... They don't even want to practice saying a whole Greek name for just 2 minutes in preparation for a show full of Greek names. And don't give me that "Greek is hard" shit when we only talk about a few syllables. If Greek kids can learn English since first grade and people here can sing English songs and spell English names, you have no excuse.

They also said the name "Fotis" means light, which is close enough but... ugh.. It's like saying Sebastian means "respect". I am not sure if they asked anyone or what their research was here. If I had the writers in front of me, I'd be like:

(This character from an all-time favorite Greek show is called Fotis)

They also made the flag of "Krete" an alteration of the Greek flag and the local Cretan flag. Which is the stupidest move, because they had to remove the religious symbol of the cross to make the flag fit the universe. These are flags created based on 1) Christianity 2) the Greek Revolution of 1821.

National Greek flag to the left, local Cretan flag to the right:

Flag of the KAOS' "Krete":

The only time they seriously took into account anything Greek, was the time when they decided to remove the religious symbol of our ethnoreligion AND (from what I could observe) keep the nine stripes?? The nine stripes of our national flag represent the syllables in "Freedom or Death". The colors are from the white foustanela of the mainland attire and the dark blue vraka of the island attire, the clothing of the Revolution fighters. (That's more of a meta explanation but the characteristics of the flag were decided during and nearly after the Revolution.)

I think I don't have to explain it more but it's not a homage to put the nine stripes in an ancient era where they have no meaning, and to replace a cross??? Let's... not replace religious symbols on national flags, okay? Thank you.

Another cultural element they changed was making everyone have a dedicated coin to pay Charon. Orpheus has Euridice's coin, "her coin", and he's meant to put it on her before she got buried. In Greek culture, any coin would do. Sorry that our culture restricts your script, dear writers. I guess you had to bend this too, in order to create a cohesive plot with a semblance of a twist.

Finally, the many "Kerberus" dogs were cute and I can understand the creative decision behind that. However, in a show full of inaccuracies, this made me roll my eyes a little. I think the showrunners know that Kerveros is not a breed of dog, and there can only be one of him because he doesn't have any other "Kerveros" to breed with. On the other hand, as demonstrated from art/writing on the internet, quite a lot of Westerners are not exactly aware of how our monsters work, so forgive my uncertainty 😅

Nothing is Anything

Every element KAOS played with ended up meaningless. In the words of a Lifo article:

“Zeus is a paranoid authoritarian dictator in mid-life crisis who fears losing his power and murders his aides to vent. Hera is a promiscuous goddess who repeatedly betrays Zeus and has mutilated mute priestesses for protection. Dionysos is a spoiled and immature zoomer who, apart from pranks, indulges in orgies with all genders. Poseidon a sadistic god of the sea, who tortures the crew on his ship for fun. Prometheus is gay and killed his lover so he could overthrow Zeus. Orpheus is a famous pop singer and Eurydice does not love him. Theseus is black and gay. The Erinyes are tough-as-nails mechs that look like they stepped out of ‘Sons of Anarchy’. The Fates resemble a three-member jury in a talent show. The Trojans are a terrorist group that acts against the gods. Crete is more reminiscent of California than the Mediterranean.”

The "River Styx" is a sea, the "River Lethe" is a lake, the gods are nothing more than spoiled humans, the Moirai are drag queens, the Cave is a club where you have to take a quiz to enter the underworld, and generally everything is modern, flat, mundane and anticlimactic. The producers aimed to achieve a work so meta that a "river" is now a concept, a metaphor, whatever you have in your heart. And those who want to see a river when we speak of a river are probably uncultured swines and don't understand postmodernism. Never mind that rivers are rivers in Greek mythology for a reason. That's not culturally interesting enough to explore compared to the new, cool approach of not assigning meaning to anything. That totally shows love for the original rich and meaningful material...

And the reason behind all this subversion? Probably the shock factor. They brought the characters to a point where they said "We have to save the world from Zeus" - Zeus! The father of gods, heroes and humans! - just because they could. It gives off a certain type of smugness that I personally don't like. I mean, I would like the smugness and cheekiness of KAOS if it wasn't a vapid and practically meaningless show. As nothing symbolizes anything anymore, we are just led from hollow plot point to hollow plot point.

If you cut it out of any cultural influence and see it as a story then it's... okay, I guess. But when you consider that it's meant to derive from certain material and it fails spectacularly, it's not a good story. It forgets its bases and doesn't play with the ancient elements at all. Disney's Hercules did it better, FFS!

Bad Writing (pt.1)

KAOS is not without recognizable themes but their demonstration is so juvenile and heavy-handed that it fails to influence a viewer of average intelligence. For instance, "Riddy" says to her religious mother "You dedicated your whole life to Hera, what about me?" Okay, KAOS, we get it. At the same time, this theme nulls itself because it turns out that Ridy's mother was right to do what she did, as she had a greater goal in mind. (And this, kiddos, is called Bad Writing, because your themes and scenes contradict each other)

The biggest theme I spotted was a criticism of religion and religious people who say "Do as I say, not as I do" and create exceptions for themselves. Only, it's not a criticism of anything real, in this case. It's a fact that some people in the clergy tend to preach peace and love and then they do harm, but we don't know, for example, that The Goddess of Marriage is a cheater and yet she pressures everyone into strict marriages. By focusing their wrath on divine beings who are not known for their hypocrisy, the creators missed the mark.

I can give KAOS props for how it handled Trojans to reflect real issues regarding how immigrants and war refugees are mistreated and blamed. I'd argue it was the only (nearly) well-done theme in the whole show because it had the least on-the-nose delivery and some genuine/serious scenes. But that's it.

More Bad Writing!

Jeff Goldblum's Zeus is shit. He'd crap his pants in an argument with a stern Greek dad/uncle his age. Is this character supposed to be intimidating? (Laughs in Mediterranean) That's not to say that Goldblum is not a good actor, but this role wasn't for him. The same can be said for the other actors, too. They are competent but they only give off the air of "The Greek gods if they lived in London, from the minds of people who think beards and body hair are an affliction". In addition to being misplaced, the actors cannot show their talent when following a script that resembles a children's book.

Why does THE GOD Dionysus have the maturity of a 15-year-old? I repeat, The God Dionysus. He's a freaking deity, and a very old one at that. He is not a teenager neither in appearance nor in experience. In our culture, he is mystical, mighty, wise. Why did they downgrade him so? Just for the plot? This is not Dionysus just because you named him so.

The dialogue rarely takes itself seriously to the point it has you wondering at times "Do people talk and behave like that?". In a comedy where everything is meant to be already extreme and parodied. Even in comedies, something must occasionally be serious so there is a healthy fluctuation in tone and the funny moments can hit you. In KAOS very few scenes treated their impactful dialogue as it should be treated.

The queerness and diversity (good elements, in general) were worse off for being in KAOS. Like, I want these elements to be there. I'm just sad about the whole situation. It's not enough that the show is shit, now you also give an additional reason for conservatives to shit on diverse and queer characters because they are part of a stupid narrative.

I'm the type of person who doesn't mind the queerness of Astyanax and Theseus being lovers in the context of this specific show but they're still the oddest pairing to me because they're from the most irrelevant myths and eras. Also, Astyanax in my mind is a baby who died tragically, for little reason if we are honest, so to bring him back and make him a love interest is... ekh.

In addition, isn't Astyanax supposed to be crippled after a fall from the city walls when he was a baby? Sorry to change subjects but the show is so convoluted and with so many issues that it's extremely difficult to stay on track with what's wrong.

To the person who thought this show was a good idea:

Whatever. Bye. I'm fucking done.

[re-decorate]

rant incoming but my absolute biggest tumblr pet peeve is how some photos get formatted as text posts. why is that even a thing? why can i edit some in app but not others?? like im trying to run an aesthetic blog here and when photos get formatted as text posts it fucks everything up. the stuff on the right is pretty but whatever this shit is on the left is not!!!!!!!! >:(

[nomairuins]

i want to watch the things on my watchkist but i also never do its rly tragic

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[paiges-1vur]

can you write for hopkins p x reader!! also love ur stories babe 💗

hold on, we’re going home… as always, enjoy loves <3

paige bueckers. the girl from the small town in minnesota. the uconn women’s basketball commit. ya, you “went to the same school as her.” at least thats what people knew about the two of you. paige wasnt openly gay, but wasn’t necessarily denying any allegations. you were both in similar situations, and were both… girl kissers. you had met in ap biology, junior year. ever since then you guys had become friends, but not necessarily close friends.

you really found out that paige was gay the night you got drunk for the first time. you were hanging out with one of your close friends kaylie. the two of you were just having fun at her house because her parents were gone for the weekend. towards the end of the night, you had found yourself abandoned in her room, while she hooked up with her boyfriend of the time in her hot tub. while trying to walk down to the kitchen to grab water, you fell and fucked up your knee bad. you panicked at the gushing blood, and subconsciously called paige, the first person you could think of. “hey paigey poo! im having so much fun, but can you pick me up…”

two things were sure. one, that she picked up the damn phone in one ring. and two, you were in her car less than 15 minutes later, on the way to her house. you had the hiccups, and the car was silent most of the way home. you decided to break the silence. “hey…paige” you slurred, pausing to hiccup. “are you mad at me.. because im drunk and because i called you.. to come get me?” you managed to ask.

her jaw tightened, her eyes set on the road. “what happened, y/n…” she said plainly. it was a moment before she spoke again, “and.. no. im not mad” her eyes flickered over to you for a second before shifting back to the road again. you were sat criss cross apple sauce in the seat next to her with your hands placed in your lap. “well… me and kaylie were having sooo much fun,” you notice her tongue move against her cheek as you say this, but keep speaking anyway. “but then this stupid guy came over and started…i dont know but kaylie seemed reallyyy busy.” paige thought carefully before she answered. she looked to your knee, “i will take care of your knee when we get home, so dont worry about that,” she locks eyes with you as she speaks “the guy didnt… bring a friend?”

you drunkenly ruin the moment and light heartedly punch paige in the arm, snorting before confessing, “oh god no! i dont know.. its confusing, this year i realized i think im actually into-” you look over to a smirking paige. “into what?” she asks looking at you like your about to be her last meal. you swallow and immediately quiet down. “i-i forgot. are we almost there?” you try to shift the conversation. she laughs, as she pulls into her driveway. talk about perfect timing. paige swiftly got out of the car, putting her lanyard with her keys in the pocket of her sweats. she made her way to your side of the car, opening the door. “im gonna pick you up, i dont want you to fall trying to walk and hurt yourself even more. “ you swallowed. you werent big by any means, and if anything were on the smaller side, but something about someone picking you up always made you feel uneasy. “no.. paige i can just walk, you cant hold me” you try to push her arms away but soon you find yourself being hauled bridal style through paiges front door. you were soon brought to her bedroom, and she placed you to sit gently on the edge of her bed.

“here,” she threw you an oversized tshirt that would reach to about your knees. no surprise, it was a uconn tshirt. “put this on, i dont know if you noticed but your hoodie is soaked, you must have spilled something on it without realizing.” you look down frowning at the stain. “thanks paigey,” you pull the hoodie off and put the tshirt on, paiges eyes fixed on your body the whole time. “mm smells, really good paige.. you smell so fucking good.” she grins walking towards the bed, rolling her eyes and putting a bandaid on your no longer bleeding knee. “thank you, y/n your too sweet” she says softly, looking you in the eyes. “uhm- its really hot in here… can i take off my sweats? i dont want to melt” you ask half nervously, half giggling. paige smiles down at you, placing her hands on the bed next to either side of you, standing between your legs. “ill help you ma, dont worry..” she says, moving to help you take them off. “just lift your hips for me baby” you quickly comply and she pulls them off, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

your paralyzed. trapped by paiges arms, her eyes devouring you. “you can get comfortable, lie down and ill go grab you water” she says finally getting up from between your legs and turning to the mini fridge in her room. you lie down and she tosses you a water. you quickly drink it, watching as she climbs into bed next to you. she leans against the headboard, one arm propped behind her head as she turns to look at you. “uconn looks so damn good on you, you know?” your voice is suddenly gone along with your ability to speak as paige presses you for answers. “about earlier, what are you into? just… want to get to know you better. its been a while since we have talked” she says smirking. she moves her hand to your thigh, slowly tracing up and down the length of it.

your so drunk at this point in time that you cant help but let out a small whine at the sudden touch of paiges cold, long fingers on your hot skin. “oh my.. paige..” her smirk only grows, her fingers traveling higher and higher up your thigh. “yes darling? keep talking dont be shy” she looks at you again, knowing shes about to get what she wants. “well somebody.. recently.. just made me realize, maybe im not into guys” you say slowly. paige takes her hand off your thigh. she looks down at your legs again before meeting your eyes. “dont be shy around me love, just know you can always call if you need help with anything.. okay?” she says lying down.

whatever this… moment is, you dont want it to end. a mix of pleasure and confusion floods your senses as paige grabs you by the waist, pulling you in. “we can talk about.. it, another time love. you need to rest” she whispers, placing a small kiss on your shoulder. you decide to take her advice, and adjust yourself against her body, leaning into her touch as you drift off to sleep in her arms…

muehehhehe lots and lots of tension, but a sweet ending. whats better than that? (pure smut. thats the answer.) i tried to take a break from just writing pure filth, so heres this shitty idea i wrote out at 1 am <3

also i loveeee hopkins p, so expect more fics!!!

[uravitypng]

𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞!

pairing: atsumu miya x chubby reader

word count: 1.1k words

a/n: this is a slightly longer version to something i wrote a couple days, an anon asked for shameless smut with atsumu and a chubby reader and i delivered them this (x) this is the longer version of that

content warnings: (not a lot really?? its pretty fluffy for smut) horny/needy atsumu, vaginal sex, body worship, atsumu making a joke about you looking hot while humiliated, he's kind of a meanie (a menace if you will, but a menace in love) / mdni

"tsumu we're going to be late! our reservations are at half seven, we're meeting all the others in less than an hour." you're meant to be celebrating a msby win with the team and their partners but instead you're laying in your shared bed with your fiancee with your dress bunched up.

"don't blame me. it's yer fault for looking so hot. you can't blame me when my wife looks so good."

"wife? not yet." you try and pull your dress back down but atsumu isn't having it and swats your hand away, not letting you.

"shut yer trap, ya know what i mean." while keeping your dress bunched up he runs his large hands over your thick thighs, enjoying your soft skin underneath his hands.

you giggle at his response but your laugh is cut off as he places a kiss over your clothed clit making you gasp. tsumu slightly pushes your underwear to the side and then blows air against your clit getting satisfaction from make you shudder. the tips of his fingers stroke you up and down, lightly, teasing you, a patch already soaking through from your arousal. " 's not my fault when you look so hot in that dress, clinging to all your curves like that. you're making me go crazy." he pulls down your underwear and throws them somewhere behind them not taking any notice to where, "we can be a little late." 

"a little?" you snort as you stare of in the direction of your discarded clothes. he smirks and kisses your hip, pulling down your dress at the top too so that your tits are on display and your dress is only covering the middle part of your body. atsumu pulls down your bra as well and gropes your breasts harshly before pinching your nipples causing you to whine.

he drags his digits along your already wet folds, his fingers becoming the same. he feels no shame as he sucks his fingers clean. you swallow as you watch his tongue circle his two fingers that are still in his mouth, he hums and there's a popping sound as he takes them out. "ya taste so good sweetheart."  

you turn your head away embarrassed from the act, "none of that now if you don't look at me i'll stop what i'm doing and i'm sure you want me to keep going at this point." he warns you and you reluctantly look back at him, still embarrassed. he smirks as he sees you try and shy your eyes away from his, "aw, you embarrassed love?" he chuckles. "there's no need. i wasn't lying or nothin' ya taste fucking amazing."  

"don't say that tsumu, it's humiliating," you whine, finally making eye contact with him again. 

"humiliation looks so good on you though," he smirks while pinching your nipple harder that he had been previously, making you yelp and him to burst out laughing because of the noise. you scowl at him but he just smirks again, unapologetically.

atsumu runs his large hands all over your body before stating suddenly, "this is stupid," and he starts pulling up your dress to take it off completely and moves up to face you so he can look at how pretty you are.

"i thought you said it looked hot?" you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him.

"you do! ya just look better with it off," he smirks and allows you to pull him down. kissing messily, all tongue and teeth, clashing , right in the moment, he just can't help himself when it comes down to you and you're not one to complain just as swept up around atsumu as he is with you. most of the time atsumu kisses you slowly and tenderly while cupping your cheek but you never complain when he looks at you more hungrily.

now that you're completely naked he squeezes and grabs your pudgy tummy and kneeds your love handles, groaning as his fingers sink into your soft malleable skin. 

his clothes come off just as rushed as yours did, hastily pulling down his jeans and boxers all at once, he quickly threw them behind him too, getting the same treatment as your clothes did, his dick already rock hard and weeping, begging to buried inside you.

atsumu lifted your thigh up, resting his palm at the bottom where he's slung your thigh over his shoulder and he's folding your body as he plunges his fat cock into you to the hilt as deep as possible hitting the spongy spot making you see stars, his coarse semi-groomed pubes stimulating you further. your wet heat envelops him and he groans, "jesus baby, i love ya s'much."  

he ruts into you hard and fast, causing your plush body to jiggle with each thrust and atsumu doesn't know where to look. you look like a goddess in his eyes and every inch of you is perfect he just can't decide; your tummy rolls that are squished together, your breasts that freely bounce without any bra, your cute face and chubby cheeks, your pretty pussy that keeps sucking him back in with every thrust, not wanting him to go leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock with every thrust. he can't decide where to look- you're perfect.

his balls make a smacking sound with each trust when making contact with your ass and your thighs start to ache with how pressed up they are against your breasts and it's good thing atsumu is driving tonight because it's doubtful you'd be able to walk far after this, your whole lower body will likely be sore. you love every second of it though.  

you admire how handsome your fiancee is above you, hooded brown eyes that are gazing at you like he wants to bite into you and eat you up, lazy smirk that adorns his face, bleached dyed hair that's become messy after him jumping on you, a light sheen of sweat covers his forehead and his lips plump, looking slightly swollen, from how much you've been kissing. you reach a hand up and tug his hair, pulling him down so he's close enough for you to kiss again and you do kiss, tongues dancing together.

you intimately press a palm against his cheek and feel the heat radiating under your hand, atsumu's eyes flutters close a few times, smiling sweetly as he feels your warm touch. one hand is still holding onto your thigh occasionally squeezing the softness making him harder. his other hand is holding onto one of your hands, fingers intertwined. he repeats himself from earlier, mumbling against your forehead, "love you, love you s' much."

"love you too 'tsumu!" you moan and you're gripping onto his hand even tighter.

you turn up to dinner late, very late.

[feyhunter78]

By Any Other Name - Nerd!Miguel

Description: You + his last name? He knows it's all hypothetical, all circumstantial, but it's killing him. Artist cred: Lintufrikki on Twitter

Miguel remembers the first time it happened. You asked him if he wanted to get lunch before your next classes, it’s a two-hour stretch, one he knows you’d rather spend at home, and honestly normally so would he. But when you broach the topic, dangle it before him like a carrot on a string—though he knows you’d never do that maliciously, you just don’t understand what you do to him, how you make him feel—he can’t bring himself to say no.

Chick-fil-A, it’s the only food you’ll eat from the student center, and you lean against the pillar with him, your shoulder brushing against his.

“You didn’t have to do that; I would’ve gotten my own food.” You tell him, your expression a soft mix of guilt and gratefulness.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, looking down at you, at the way you fidget with your nails. They’re that same long almond shape you always get, but this time colored a smooth, glossy pink. They make a pleasant sound when you tap them together in thought, and for a moment he wonders how they’d look against his skin. Not in a vulgar way. Just your hand in his, or pressed to his chest, or resting on his back when you hug him. Or maybe around his throat as you ride hi—he stops that thought in its tracks and pulls his phone from his pocket.

Gabri: So, you’re finally on a date with your sorority girl? Took ya long enough.

Miguel: It’s not a date, we’re just getting lunch between classes.

Gabri: Yeah, okay, and water isn’t wet.

Miguel: Fuck off.

“O’Hara?” The girl behind the cash register calls out.

Before he can even take a step, you bound up to the register, with a happy "right here!" on your lips.

His stomach flips, his hand curls around his phone. You acted like it was nothing, sprang up before he could even react, as if O’Hara had been your last name all your life.

Y/N O’Hara, it sounds nice, he savors the thought, rolls it around in his mind before locking it away.

You hand him his bag with a bright smile. “Want to go sit outside?”

The second time it happens, he’s even less prepared than before. Miguel guesses it shouldn’t be as bad, no one is calling you O’Hara, you’re just walking around with his name on your back, in big white letters. He doesn’t even know why you’re here, this is a chess competition, it’s boring, well he knows you find it boring. He’s tried to teach you to play once, but gave up in favor of hearing you bitch about your sisters, and how no one on exec knew how to do their jobs.

Then he sees Gabriel, with his arm slung around Mina’s shoulders, and it all makes sense. His stupid but big-hearted brother brought you here for “support,” even though Miguel was sure he was going to lose now. How could he focus when you were sitting on the sidelines, proudly wearing his last name for all to see?

It takes all his concentration to not let his eyes flicker to you every free moment he has, and when the competition is over, and he’s come out in second place, he finally relaxes.

Which was a mistake.

You practically throw yourself at him, smiling up at him. “Miguel! That was amazing, you were so fast, and the way you moved the pieces and won—okay I don’t really understand what I was watching, but you did so well! Second place, that’s so good!”

He shoots Gabriel a look, then smiles sheepishly at you. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Gabriel said people don’t usually come to support, but that he and Mina were going to come today, so I thought I’d take them up on their offer to join them.” You untangle yourself from him and turn so he can read the back of your shirt. “And isn’t this cool? Mina made them, we all have one.”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s really cool, thanks for coming, it means a lot.” He’s sure his face is red, and he pushes his glasses up, clearing his throat. “I hope it wasn’t too boring.”

“Miguel.” You drag out the L sound in his name, giving him a faux annoyed look. “You gotta stop apologizing. I told you; I like seeing you in your element.”

“Yeah, man, don’t be such a Debbie Downer.” Gabriel claps him on the shoulder. “Now smile, I’m taking a picture for mom.”

Miguel smiles at Gabriel’s phone, and you turn towards Mina, whispering.

“They look good, huh? I like seeing Mina with our last name on her, feels likes I’m staking a claim without even having to do anything.” Gabriel says conspiratorially, nudging Miguel with his elbow. “How about you, feeling good?”

Miguel elbows him back. “Fuck off.”

You’re drunk when he finally gets the gift of hearing you say it yourself. You had called him from the bathroom of some frat house, all sad, and dare he say needy? You were whining into the phone, begging him to come get you because you missed him, you needed him.

He weaves through the house, nodding at Brett, who—after Miguel got over his jealousy that definitely wasn’t jealousy—he found to be a pretty decent guy. Maybe a bit too much of a people pleaser, but he was harmless. It was Brett who let him in, after all, who vouched to his frat brothers that Miguel would be in and out, just here to pick up a drunk girl.

His words, which will echo in Miguel’s head maybe till the end of time, were, “he’s cool, just here to get his girl, she drank too much, called him up, he’ll be quick.”

His girl. In the eyes of Brett and a few random guys whose names, he never learned; you were Miguel’s.

He finds you with a friend, leaning against the wall, your head on her shoulder.

“Y/N, your rides here.” She says, rubbing your bicep comfortingly.

Your eyes fly open, and you smile when you see him. “Miguel!”

He crosses the distance between you in two strides. “Hey, you alright?”

“She drank too much, I don’t know what’s up with her, she seemed fine when we got here, but then she just took a nosedive.” Your friend, Janey—he thinks—says, as she passes you to him. “Just get her something salty, it’ll balance her out.”

“French fries, I’d kill for French fries right now.” You mumble, as Miguel wraps his arm around your waist.

“Why don’t we get in the car first and then talk about French fires?” He suggests, leading you back through the house, and into the cool night air.

Once you’re away from the music and the heat of the crowd, you straighten up, and scrunch up your face, bringing your hand to your forehead. “Fuck, I am way more drunk than I thought.”

“Let’s get you home.” He says, trying to guide you towards his car.

You shake your head. “Too tired, can’t walk anymore.”

“Y/N, my car is right over there.” He points to his car that’s no more than fifteen feet away.

“Can’t do it, too far, I’ll just sleep right here.” You say, slowly moving to lower yourself to the ground.

Now he knows you’d never sleep on the ground, never sleep outside or even in a frat house. If you were by yourself, you’d be calling your friends, or an Uber and going home. And maybe he should feel honored that you feel safe enough with him to give into the drunkenness and act silly, but he really doesn’t want to stand here all night.

“No, no, why don’t you just…come here.” He scoops you up into his arms bridal style and starts walking.

“You’re so strong, how are you doing this?” You ask, amazed at his strength.

“You weigh less than the weights I use at the gym, this is nothing.” He says, unable to resist puffing himself up a bit.

“Miguel, you’re amazing, seriously, you’re like a superhero.” You say, looking up at him with such adoration it almost hurts.

“And you’re drunk.” He snorts, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other while you toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“Yeah, so?” You manage to undo the top button and are working on the second.

“So, you don’t know what you’re saying, or doing.” He says, his voice pitching up slightly at the end when you successfully undo a third button and press your hand against his chest.

“You know, it’s kinda funny, you’re carrying me like a bride. Like I’m Mrs. O’Hara, Mrs. Y/N O’Hara. I like it.” You look up at him through your lashes, head tilted to the side alluringly.

He nearly drops you. “Y-Yeah?”

You nod then yawn and rest your head against his chest. “I’m tired, no French fries, just sleep now.”

He gently sets you in his car and buckles you in. “Just sleep then, I’ll wake you up when we get to your apartment.”

“Okay, thank you.” You say sleepily, already curling up in the seat, eyes closed.

He shuts the door and rests his elbows on the hood, burying his face in his hands. You’re going to kill him one of these days, and he’ll happily let you.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

Twst with a Blood Mage reader

Warning: ...Blood and Violence? No shit?

• In this fic, I won't be specifically referring to the reader as Skarlet or any part of Skarlet's backstory. I'll only be using references of her skillset (Dagger Dance, Cell Siphon, Krimson Shield, etc.) and I'll also leave the reader's backstory as a powerful unknown mage with a forbidden type of magic.

• You have a very unique magic. A magic oh so powerful that everyone feared that it may turn you into a monster. But the thought of manipulating anyone and making them serve you never crossed your mind. You first discovered that you possess such type of magic is when you accidentally bit the inside of your cheek. The blood dripped down from your mouth to the floor. As you cried, the drops of blood levitated in the air, startling you. When the people around you took notice of this, they immediately cast you aside as a villain.

• ... That's okay. It doesn't hurt anymore.

• You didn't know what happened. That's that. You didn't know you blacked out, you didn't know how you got trapped inside a coffin, you didn't know why this... Blue furry thing on fire screaming at you to take off your robe that definitely wasn't there before. You shrugged its hostile behavior towards you since it doesn't sound like it wants to elaborate.

????: "Fnyagh! Just gimme your robe and I won't burn ya to a crisp, got it?!"

• I mean, look at this thing. Judging by its size and aura, it doesn't seem to be strong enough to knock you out, much less overpower you. The flaming feline is not pleased when you casually ignore him and just walk away like nothing happened. So it blew flames at you when you turn from him. You sharply turn to a corner to avoid the flames. You realize that you didn't have your dagger or anything sharp around you, so you ran.

????: "Fnyaaaah! Hey come back here!"

• Hmm, Courtyard... No sharp rocks or sticks, the whole place looks clean. Hmm, Library... Papercuts from papers? No, too small. Shit, a dead end... Should you just bite your fingers or bash your head against the wall? Nah, no time-

Grim: "Fnyahaha! Ya think ya can escape from the Great Grim's nose?! Now, take off your- FNYAGH!"

• You sighed, close your eyes, and just thought of letting him burn your skin off so that you can have access to your blood magic...... Huh, he's silent all of a sudden. You open your eyes to see a man wearing a crow mask and a top hat capturing the cat with a lash. The man scolded you after bickering with the tiny monster. He doesn't seem to pose a threat to you and you won't pose a threat to him.

• Whatever nonsense this man keeps blabbering about, it intrigues you. A college? Solely to train young mages? This loud-ass man is their headmaster? A horse drawn carriage of ebony took you here? As a student? ...Should you be glad that it's not a dungeon? Should you be annoyed and tell him that you're not supposed to be here? Either way, you quiet down and observe the commotion until your explanation is needed.

??????: "Where is the headmage?"

?????: "Maybe he had a stomachache and had to leave?"

Crowley, barging in: "NOT AT ALL!"

????: "Ah, there he is."

?????: "Whatever. Let's get this stupid ceremony over with."

• Crowley pushed in front of a mirror and a face glowed from it.

Dark Mirror: "State thy name."

BloodMage! Yuu: "...."

Crowley: "Psst! Say your real and full name!"

BloodMage! Yuu: "... But it's an object? I'm not sharing my name with an object, I'll look stupid."

Crowley: "Just say your name!"

BloodMage! Yuu: "Fine! It's BloodMage! Yuu..."

Dark Mirror: "BloodMage! Yuu... Thy color and shape of soul is..."

[necropaint]

My Personal Alastor Headcanons

Not because I'm a simp or anything ahahahah.... All SFW aside from some cursing of course. :)

I am sleep deprived and stupid so some of these maybe shit and have terrible spelling errors. My mind is running at 3% and some of these were spontaneously made up because that's how my mind works. Enjoy.

📻 Viv let us play with Alastor's sexuality and so I hc he is demisexual (totally not me projecting and basing it off my own experiences, nahhhh...) and he rarely falls for anyone, but when he does he falls HARD.

• That being said, the flirtation begins. He is terrible at it... He respects boundaries and is incredibly respectful but he 100% butchers pickup lines because he genuinely thinks our generation likes those.

- "If you were a vegetable you would be a cucumber."

- "Do you have an extra heart? Mine was stolen."

- Can demons have strokes? That's probably what you are saying

- Angel Dust hears and DIES. Surprisingly gives some solid advice.

- "Stop with the pick-up lines. Just be yourself and it'll work, trust me, ya weirdo..."

- So he does. AKA secretly follows you, will randomly spawn to open doors for you or pull out chairs, chivalry isn't dead, dear! Also tells you about his grizzly murders in his lifetime, if anyone disrespects you prepare for your knight in shoulder pads, will be slick and dedicates one of his radio shows to you and plays an old song from his day. Makes you SWOON. Angel is proud.

- Also likes dates to Cannibal Town and introduces you to Rosie. She thinks you are the cutest thing in the world, prepared to be coddled by both.

📻 He likes to play dress up with you if you let him. Picking out your wardrobe is SO fun for him.

📻 Is a top tier cook. Usually prefers meat and will cook that for you, but if he finds out you are a vegan/pescitarian/etc he will do that. Gets excited when you compliment his cooking.

📻 HE HAS A SECRET TAIL HE IS ASHAMED OF AND I WILL NOT HIDE IT. I LOVE WHEN POWERFUL CHARACTERS HAVE A MILD INCONVENIENCE THAT MAKES THEM LESS SCARY.

📻 He learns words and if it's not from Rosie... Be prepared because it gets bad and gets cringe.

- "Ah! Darling, I heard some demons today as I was on a stroll, they were from your era. What is a mee-mee?"

- "I see... I see. They also said the word "gyatt" to a woman, I assume that is a compliment, so my dear, you have a-"

- You stop him right there, explains what that means and he short circuits. He walks over to the corner and just places his head against it. "I would like to be alone for a while..."

- "If mama knew I said this she would beat my ass to next Tuesday..."

📻 I know it says he's not big on touch but I HC he really doesn't care. He never seems to show any recoil from it, but maybe its just if its strangers?

📻 Will educate you on everything he knows on the macabre and morbid.

📻 Will FORCE you to sit down and check out vintage stuff. Watching TV? Not anymore, there is a microphone cane through it. Charlie has bought you like six phones now...

📻 He is overall an attention seeking puppy.

📻 Does things that get him praise. He WANTS his ego boost and knows you'll give it to him.

📻 Gossips with you about everyone and anything, listens to you rant and will give some genuinely good advice unless its like about an ex or something.

- "Simple, dear! Just kill them."

📻 Jokingly (?) tries to get you to sell your soul to him.

- "All in jest, don't worry! I think the look on your face is HILARIOUS!"

📻 If he sees you upset he tries to make you smile.

📻 If you are short he will put things on the top shelf and stifle a laugh as he watches you try to get it. Bless Husk and Angel for getting it for you.

📻 Angel is the only male he doesn't really have a problem with, hence when he hears about Valentino he has a bit of anger, also just because he thinks hes gross and perverse. Someone like that doesn't deserve to be breathing.

📻 Whiskey is his forte. VERY picky with his drinks, he doesn't like the cheap stuff like Husk does. A lot of people say he drinks wine but I imagine he only likes the hard stuff.

📻 He is the type of man to leave the toilet seat up. Vaggie has voiced her opinions on it.

📻 When he got Niffty out of that toilet he probably waited until the bubbles almost stopped. He's a little bit of an asshole.

📻 Actively pranks Husk. Someone save the cat-man...

- Switches his alcohol with non-alcoholic and sees how long it takes him to realize or get drunk even though he's not.

- Plays poker against him but will actively cheat to make sure he wins 100% of the time.

- Puts cucumbers down to scare the shit out of him.

📻 Since he is a deer demon (a Stag at that) he is VERY territorial, especially of the Hotel. This is HIS home. Will never admit it though.

📻 ✨Sweet Southern Boy✨ (Not really a HC I just wanted to say that, nor is he really sweet)

📻 He hides his accent. It will come out though when he is extremely extremely angry or when he is extremely relaxed.

📻 Will wake you up by staring in your face, you may or not have screamed once.

📻 Bullies Sir Pentious. He's still pissed about him ripping his tailcoat and he holds a grudge.

📻 Also not a headcanon but doesn't mind personal space, will come into the bathroom as you shower for conversation and draw on the steamed mirror. If you ask him to stop he will and completely understands.

📻 Sits and stares at a wall sometime.

📻 Gets everyone to taste his coffee, it is mostly coffee grounds.

📻 Has ate a dog demon on more than one occasion. Unapologetically.

📻 You know those compilations of like people getting hurt on youtube? If he used the internet that shit would be the funniest thing in the world to him.

📻 Uses 1920s slang to confuse everyone.

📻 Jealous.

- Plationic: Um... He's your best friend, right? Why are you giving attention to others when he is RIGHT THERE. Oh? They can do that, well he can do it ten times better. Watch what else he can do! Yeah, he's the coolest, right?

- Romantically: Time to butt heads and flex every possible way. Will RUIN the person's confidence, the psychological warfare begins. He is the better one and he must make it known. If they start flirting with you, blood will be spilled.

📻 When people try and lecture him it goes in one ear and out the other.

📻 His hair tufts are his ears, that may actually be canon, not sure.

- If he gets comfortable enough and you scratch behind they he MELTS. It scared him at first but once he first fell asleep it was nice.

📻 Will tell you about his mother constantly. Bases a lot of his morals and being a gentleman off how his mother taught him and treats women like ✨queens✨

📻 I HC one of his biggest problems with Lucifer and why they had tha number was because he was absent in Charlie's life so much and since his dad left him and his mother he believes absent fathers are the worst. He believes you have an obligation AS A FATHER to be the best you can be and raise your child.

- Absent father? Will bully so hard. He hates them to a fault, even if it wasn't their fault. He refuses to take criticism on it and its one of the things he is most stubborn about. Man got some daddy issues he doesn't want to talk about.

📻 His daddy issues lead to abandonment issues.

📻 His mom passing away will make him be extra attentive if someone he cares about is sick.

- Will check in and only really care if it's the girls.

- Will probably tell the guys to suck it up. Rip.

📻 Touch and affection starved and just doesn't show it. I don't care if it's not in character, let me project my issues in peace.

📻 Says the most out of pocket shit just for shock value.

📻 Rosie teaches him things he isn't allowed to say.

📻 His favorite body part to eat is the heart. He thinks it's poetic.

📻 Owns a record player because of course he does.

- If you want him to try modern day music, you best be getting vinyls.

- If you pull up Spotify he will feel betrayed.

- "So... My radio show isn't good enough? You need some... Application to play music for you?"

- Will guilt trip you and not feel bad. You already use phones and social media, like... Will only indulge if you play HIS type of music, and even then he will bitch about how it sounds better on the record player and how he play it on his show instead.

- I clearly know nothing about how radio shows work and I don't care.

⚠️Mildly suggestive depending on who you are:

📻 Likes boobs, he just likes sleeping on them. He was a mama's boy and he probably rested his head on his mother's chest all the time growing up.

[adamsmasher]

Okay it's after 1am and I've had a lot of wine so obviously it's time for a late night wall-of-text post, but this time it's less likely to piss off your weird uncle or whatever because once again, I gotta talk about the best $4.99 a month I've ever spent.

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"Alex, thanks for the recommendation! What shows do they have that you think I'll like?" Oh, you're asking me to gush about my favorite tv shows? Don't mind if I do!!!

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"Oh, why aren't there any good game shows on TV?" you wonder, wishing that the Game Show Network could come up with something that isn't a lame remake of a free-to-play phone game. Well how about Game Changer, "the only game show where the game changes every show (except for [...] Game of Games, Taskmaster, and a few others that have come to light AFTER [Game Changer first aired]. That's right, [the] players have no idea what game it is they're about to play. The only way to learn is by playing, the only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning." And yes, I did sit there and watch the beginning of an episode to make sure I was accurately quoting Game Changer host (and Dropout CEO) Sam Reich's description of his flaghship game show that has THREE separate spin-offs. (for context, he only mentions the other shows that copied his in the one episode I pulled up to get an accurate quote. could you imagine how uncomfortable it would be if he said that every episode? hah!)

Are you more of a traditional Whose Line fan? Look no further than Game Changer spin-off Make Some Noise, where contestants act out "improvisational prompts that [they have] never seen before, isn't that right contestants?" ("We won't know if we've seen them before or not until we see them!" Brennan insists every time he's on...)

You like musicals but wish they were less... ya know, scripted? Check out "Play It By Ear", a fully improvised musical! (you may be familiar with its primary cast members Jess McKenna and Zach Reino from the podcast that inspired it all, "Off Book: the Improvised Musical Podcast with Zach and Jess")

Or maybe you're more into trivia, cuz you're a total nerd like me (and every single performer that's ever appeared on dropout.tv). How about "Umm, Actually" where contestants are given an incorrect statement and have to buzz in to correct it - but you have to say "Umm, Actually" first!

Straight up, you can't go wrong on Dropout. Please, check it out. They're nearly doubling the amount of original shows they have in 2024, and no other streaming service is doing it like them. If I haven't convinced you yet, get the 7 day trial and give em a chance. There's no referral code I can give you that gives me some sort of kickback or whatever, I genuinely wrote what looks like a thousand word essay about Dropout at 1am just because I love them so much.

[krispycreamcake]

Diabolik Lovers x reader (part 3)

It was almost 3am, your heart was pounding, palms were sweating, lungs heaving. You couldn't believe what had just happened between you and shu. There was no way any of this could possibly be real....Vampires? There was supposed to be no such thing. Why was this happening to you? You felt tears trickle down your chin, wetting your clothes. Everything that man said back then, it all slowly came together. You couldn't help but judge your poor criticism of the offer Karl had made you. He knew your desperate situation and he knew he could fix it, offer you the slightest bit of relief, in exchange you unknowingly gave your life.

Thunder boomed above you, as the winds crashed against your large windows, shaking the pane. You made sure to lock your door and windows, however it did nothing to ease your overwhelming despair. You crawled into bed, draping the covers over yourself as you prayed to whatever being out there to keep you safe. If vampires could exist then surely there was at least a God. Right.....? Morning couldn't come less quicker as you were sure you hadn't slept a wink. Only until the sun started to peek from beyond the vast mountains, could you feel just slightly better. Your body fought with all its might to force itself awake, but that small window of comfort was all you needed to fall asleep. You could almost feel your worries get burnt to a crisp as the soft warmth of the glistening aura of the divine's golden ball shone its grace upon your bitterly cold skin. Your eyelids crashed on itself like a long awaited avalanche, finally allowing your body some rest. You're not sure how long it had been before you awoke to the sound of ruckus outside. You groggily got up and slipped off the bed as your body was now on autopilot. You dragged your way to the door, listening for what was the cause of this conglomeration of chaos.

"Chichinashi- Stop fighting me- Oi! Where do ya think you're really going?" What was that supposed to mean and what was a....what was it? Chee-Chee-noshi? By the sounds of it, it could've been no one other than that flame headed boy, Ayato. But all this shouting this early in the day? Wh- Your thoughts were interrupted as another voice boomed out. "Oi! Keep it down! Some people would like to sleep damn it! Always shouting and screaming like it aint no one else's problem!" You jumped back from your door due to the sheer volume of that other guy. Him you didn't know, it certainly wasn't shu. You continued to listen as Ayato angrily responded. "Ha! There's no way an outta control guy like yourself is trying to tell Ore-sama what to do! Y'know Subaru, I always thought it was about time you learn to have some respect for your older brother-" You couldn't even listen the rest of the conversation before a loud smack was heard and then silence. Did Ayato really hit Subaru?? Soon enough you could hear a full on brawl going on right outside your door. You didn't for the slightest moment think about opening your door, but was it really okay? What if they needed your help? No- that's a stupid idea, why would they need your help? They're vampires for Christ's sake, you're supposed to be their food. Nothing more than a bloodbag...but even so was it okay to just stand by and let them pulverize each other to a pulp?

Before you cold think anymore, you hear footsteps increasing in speed as it hastily made its way to your door. You immediately jumped out the way just as a disastrous thud echoed throughout the elegantly crafted hall. Wood splintering in every which way as the impact caused the door to fly off its hinges. It felt almost surreal to you as Subaru came crashing through your door, landing on a pile of wooden rubble. You subconsciously ran up to his laying form, forgetting all about your experience with his vampiric bother. You immediately crouched near his bashed body, observing how badly beat his face was. One of his cheeks were swollen while his lip continued to bleed profusely, like a fountain gushing out water after not having been in use for years. You felt sympathy swell in your heart for the crimson drinking creature as you used the sleeve of your nightgown to dab up his wounded lip. His eyes fluttered open to gain a better understanding of his surroundings. "Subaru- oh my god- a-are you okay?? Do you need to go to the hospital? You're bleeding..." You anxiously stammered out. He twisted his face away like he was almost disgusted by the act of kindness. You felt your heart drop a little at his rude gesture. "Tch, of course I'm fine." Was all he said in his gruff voice before getting up as Ayato's head poked around the doorframe.

He immediately belted out in a fit of laughter as he criticized his brother's poor situation. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't get anymore words out as the spectacle clad man came speeding behind him. "Just what do you both think you're-" He immediately silenced his scolding as he took in the sight before him. Reiji pinched the bridge of his nose before glaring at all three of you. If looks could kill, Reiji would be in jail for more than just a case of predetermined manslaughter.

It wasn't long before you, Subaru and Ayato found yourselves doing household chores.....for a month. How was it that you just got here and yet things couldn't have gone worse? Luckily Reiji said he'd spare you the trouble if you helped him in his experiments, but you were still thinking over your decision. For now however, you were currently pruning the rose bushes with Subaru, who honestly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he almost seemed relax, granted that a guy with such stone cold expressions could muster any facial declaration that didn't warrant anything else than a worried glance. His usual penetrative stare softened as his ruby eyes remained trained on the delicate petals of the white rose. It was hypnotic to see such a harsh blood-sucking beast be so attentive, it almost made him seem human. You watched as his muscularly toned biceps clench and release each time he cut off a few extra leaves, the way his white wispy locks danced to the chorus of the winds, trained eyes making sure that he wouldn't accidentally harm the flower. Your world almost came crashing down as he looked your way, not a word said.

Instead he inched closer, hesitance absent in his calculated steps. You stood paralyzed like a deer in headlights as this 6ft something man came brooding your way. There he was right in front of you. You were as sweaty as a sinner in church as his hand shakily made its way to your neck, brushing aside your hair as his eyes widened. You weren't sure what was going through his mind but none of it looked pleasant.

"Damn...already?" Was all he managed to say before yanking his hand away and stuffing it in his pocket. You felt yourself become embarrassed, felt yourself grow meek at his comment. "It was Shu....I- I didn't want it...it hurt so much I almost passed out." You started, not quite sure why you felt the need to clarify your desires to the albino man, but a part of you felt it was the right thing to do. "Of course it'd hurt, it was your first time." You felt a blush creep up on you as those string of words struck a familiar chord in your mind. Subaru instantly picked up on it and realized what he said before visibly growing embarrassed and strutting away, daring not to make eye contact. "Just hurry up so we can get this over with!" He shouted before speeding away to the next bush behind you. You continued working, feeling despondent that your conversation with him ended so quickly. Your gut told you that he was the safest to be around, at least for now. "Are your brothers going to kill me?" You voiced, tone timid and voice faint as you couldn't help but think about if you were going to make it out alive. You notice his body grow rigid at this, dropping his hands as he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Does it matter if you do? If you're here then that means you were chosen because no one would miss you...But even so, you should continue striving to live on and get away from this place...from us monsters."

Was he really saying what you thought he was? In that moment something inside you shifted as you watched the man continue trimming the rose bushes, completely oblivious to the hope he sparked within your being. If you weren't in your right state of mind you'd run up and hug him, thank him for his words, but you couldn't. You knew you couldn't, not yet. However it quickly dawned on you that you couldn't leave, as much as you wanted to. Not because of the brothers, as you were now certain Subaru would aid with your escape, no...it was a threat far more heinous, far more deceitful. Your memory is almost a blur as you recall the night you and Karl met, you were certain he preferred it that way. You recall your purpose and why you were asked to come here. Subaru was wrong to believe that no one would miss you, it was far from the actual truth. You knew this, but your memory didn't allow you to exactly grasp why. So many pieces of the puzzle yet to be discovered and if there was one thing you were certain about, it was that staying here would help you put everything together.

"No, I can't leave yet, but thank you. I appreciate that...a lot." You said as you finished up your work. Subaru couldn't believe his ears, why were all you women so stubborn?? Did all females suddenly have a death wish? It lit a rage indescribable to him, but before he could lash out and point out your idiocy, you were already heading inside. Even after you left, he could feel the gentle stinging of your kindness. Not just from your gratitude, but from earlier as well. He hid it well but to him, your actions lingered on in his mind, even his body. He gently brushed his lip in the spot you touched earlier, almost to recreate the experience, as he pictured your body suspended over him, gentle eyes watching, scanning his injuries as your previous words rung out in his ear like bells. He dragged himself out of his delusions, cursing for allowing a mortal such as yourself corrupt his mind. He needed to stay away from you, to isolate himself before he revealed the monster that he truly was.

It didn't take you long before you appeared at Reiji's office door. You knocked firmly, waiting a response. It took a while before he called you in, presumably busy. The moment you opened the door you smelt tea brewing, possibly green tea but you weren't quite sure. Reiji looked you up and down before speaking, "I can safely assume that you and Subaru are done with your work?" You answered him quickly as a means to get this interaction over with as soon as possible. "Yes and I've already made up my mind. I'll help you with your experiments." Your words caused Reiji's face to lighten up exponentially. "Good, I hope that you prove to be more useful than that other one." You had no idea who he was talking about but felt bad for them just from his tone of voice. "If you're not busy, I'd appreciate it if we could start now." You were a bit shocked that he'd start things this quickly but accepted nonetheless.

You followed behind him as he introduced you to his workshop. It reminded you of a museum and a chemistry lab at the same time. A large wooden desk that was attached to the wall displayed many jars of preserved life, little sticky notes attached to them with small pointers for their properties. They ranged from snakes to fish to turtles to taxidermized birds. Stationery placed neatly on the desk along with different manilla folders. Then, there were the shelves that contained various bottles of liquids, differing in shape, size and colour. There was a blackboard at the far end of the room, some scribbles already written on it. It stood next to a large cabinet of china with labels under them dating their years and the artists that made them. There were more tables with what seemed like medical items and other gadgets and knick-knacks, which quite frankly didn't even look of human making. Of course then there was the bookshelves, laden from head to toe with knowledge trapped between the realms of writing.

He presented you with a beaker containing a blue liquid and instructed you to gently swirl it around while he grabbed a book from the shelf. Eventually the liquid turned a deep purple. He inspected your work before humming in approval. He took the beaker from your hand and sprinkled some yellow powder into it and you both watched as the colour turned to that of a lighter purple. He looked to you and handed you the object once more. "Drink it all in one go so I can fully understand the effects of this." You stared at him dumbfounded. "I'm not drinking some random chemical." You stated firmly. At this, he slammed his book closed with a loud snap. "You agreed to this didn't you?" He said as he slowly made his way over. "Yeah but that doesn't mean that you can just make me drink random purple liquids.."

He stopped right in front of you, towering over your form before placing a hand on the desk behind you. "It's supposed to help reduce the chances of cardiac arrest when paired with medication that labels it as a side effect." His cold voice freezes over your blood as you look up at him. Eyes marking you like nothing more than prey as a smile presented itself on his plump lips. You shakily raised the beaker to your mouth and downed it in one go. Its taste was quite earthy, something you weren't expecting. The bitterness came immediately after as you clasped your palm around your lips to hold in a gag as you retched from the distasteful concoction. Reiji watches in curiosity at your turmoil, taking in your every movement. You handed him the beaker weakly as you struggled to stand up. Your vision felt hazy just as a piercing headache attacked your temples. Before you could even completely register the pain, you were out like a light.

You awoke to darkness all around you, your head still pounding. You stood up on wobbly legs as you tried to adjust your eyesight, however there was nothing to see. At this realization your panic settled in as your head swished and swerved every which way until you saw it. The tiniest of lights...a flame standing some distance in front of you. You ran towards it, the urgency for comfort powering your steps. As you got closer and closer, you realized it was a torch. You stuck your hand out to grab it and as soon as you did, the scenery changed to that of a stone hall. Torches lighting down a path, guiding you. You looked behind you and noticed there was still nothing but darkness, which only solidified your decision to move forward. You walked for no longer than 5 minutes as a wooden door came into view. It looked so intricately carved and designed, fit for someone of a high standing class. You pushed the door open to be met only with the one and only Karlheinz. He was sitting at a desk, presumably his office. He looked up from his paperwork and made eye contact with you, to which your headache returned. He smiled at you and gestured for you to come in and take a seat. You didn't want to, you absolutely refused to, but your body didn't heed your brain's warnings and made its way over to his desk.

"How has your stay been so far? I take it you were already introduced to the truth of the situation?" He said, his long luscious pale locks shifting on his shoulder as he poured you a glass of water from a water jug. "Why did you lie to me?? I want to go home." You said, tone reeking of desperation. "If I recall correctly, you were the one that agreed to this, no? I dislike persons that go back on their words just because they have to get out of their comfort zones." He says handing you the glass, which you took and gulped down. Since when were you so thirsty? "This has nothing to do with comfort zones- I might die for God's sake!" Karl listened to your complaints intently as he clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk. "Do you remember our agreement?" You stayed silent as you tried to recall the events of what happened the night you two met. "Let me help reminisce. You needed my help and I agreed to aid you under the circumstance that you help me as well. This isn't just about my sons, this is about my vision and you concurred to help achieve this, did you not?" As he spoke, you feel bits and pieces of your memory start to unfog. "Yes..." He smiled once again at your understanding. "If you die then that disrupts my plans. Trust that as long as you work under me and follow my orders, death herself couldn't rip you away from me." You felt your throat grow dry as his words made you realize a couple things. That one, that translated to, 'for as long as you live, you will be under my control' and two, you had no choice but to work for him because that was a clear and direct threat that if you disobeyed him, death would be the least of your worries. You felt as if you were watching a snake shed its skin as he revealed to you what he had in store for the both of you. "I know there are many questions you have that are unanswered, but they will remain that way as I piece together my plan. Don't worry as you will soon understand everything, just keep being a good pawn to me and you will be rewarded. I assume we have an understanding?" His words cut through your fears as you nodded in response. "Ah, I need verbal confirmation, otherwise we cannot proceed." You felt your lips grow dry as you spoke up. "Yes...I understand." He smiled once more before getting up from his seat and pulling out your chair to allow you to stand up and leave. "But I still don't understand how- or even why you're doing any of this, why me?" He gently took your hand into his gloved one and looked you in the eye. "I'd love to answer all your questions my dear but I do believe our time is up. Perhaps the next time we meet I'll have more of an opportunity to speak to you on a more personal level? As for now, it seems my sons require your presence." Was all he said before kissing the top of your hand and in an instant you were brought back to reality.

Hi everyone, I'm finally back and yes I've gone down the Karlheinz rabbit hole, we will be seeing more of him. But just to clear some things up, the reader's past will get revealed in future chapters as we learn more about her and Karl's 'agreement'. Anyways thank you all for your support ilyyyy <3

[radiocreature]

📻 The Freedom To Be Whatever We Want (Radiorose Week Day 6) 🌹

Word count: 7,738

Summary: Alastor has been in hell for eight years. His friendship with Rosie developed quickly, the two bonding much faster than they could have anticipated, and they're riding high together. After a perfect night of dancing, Alastor asks Rosie out again twice in quick succession, but something about him seems less comfortable, and Rosie is determined to figure out why.

Warnings: cannibalism, unbeta'd, this will be getting a massive edit/rewrite on AO3 after I've had some time to SLEEP.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56617597

@radioroseweek

The Freedom To Be Whatever We Want

Nothing happens in Cannibal Town without Rosie knowing. Sometimes she knows what people plan on doing before they know themselves. The honest ones will seek her out first. The less honest ones will get a visit from her if their plans may harm others. One of her most reliable sources of information arrives to her fresh on a silver platter from her favorite clients: good, old-fashioned gossip. And right now, something has the young cannibal beaus and belles all atwitter.

It starts with an influx of singles’ advice. How to tell if they like you back, how to make the first move, what does this or that very-specific behavior mean? Then, three young men in relationships with women book her on the same day to ask what to do if his partner looks at other men, how to tell if she wants to break up, the signs of cheating, all of which leaves Rosie concerned after they leave. Her nicest, most expensive dresses and suits fly off the racks with urgent requests of custom tailoring. By the time her head and hands stop spinning, the entire town feels alight in a way it hasn’t in decades.

At first, her pointed questions get her nowhere. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.” “Oh, it’s just wishful thinking.” “Oh, it’s no one in particular.” “Oh, it’s a shot in the dark.” Then, “it” gets a gender. “He’s just so handsome.” “He caught my eye so long ago.” “Everyone wants him.” She drives herself to the edge of madness trying to find answers and solutions to a problem that might not even be a problem.

And then Susan, of all people, comes in clutch. Sometimes blunt has its uses. “It’s that fellow with the stupid voice and puny antlers, they all think he’s fixing to court someone. All the ladies want it to be them, for some reason, and all their men are rolling over. If that prude could handle seeing another person naked, he wouldn’t be goin’ for no dames, I can tell ya that.”

And sometimes blunt people have no more of a clue than anyone else. If Alastor wanted a relationship, Rosie would know years before he figured it out himself. She saw him two months ago, not long before this hullabaloo started, and he made no mention of it. Alastor claims very few friends, but she knows without a doubt he considers himself closest to her. The idea of him seeking out a relationship without consulting her not only sounds out of character, but also strikes a nerve somewhere near her heart.

Whatever inspired this, the cannibettes have it all wrong. Though she must admit, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when she tells him what’s had the town all out of sorts gives her a good laugh.

With perfect timing, he calls on her soon after for a night of “sorely-needed” music and dancing. “I’m feeling rather boisterous, and it’s been a while since we upstaged an entire room of people, don’t you think? Wear something extravagant, my dear, and let me know the color so I can match you.” He never fails to charm her into saying yes, not that she ever has any objections to his plans. Their tastes align to an uncanny degree.

As a challenge, she tells him red and white: a dress he’s never seen, that she’s sat on for years, waiting for the right extravagant occasion. A multilayered and tiered evening dress with an uneven hem falling to her ankles in the back and rising to midway up her shins in the front. She dyed the fabric herself to get the perfect fade, from pure white at the neck down to a bold crimson when it reaches the skirts. It gains more jewels and beads every year in her failure to leave it alone. She twirls in the mirror a few times to watch it move, fantasizing of how it will catch the light when Alastor tosses or spins her. She chooses shorter, chunkier heels to stick the landings, a pair of black pumps with a web-like design pattern over the foot that ties at the front with a bow. Ornate, but not too distracting.

He arrives in a striking white pinstriped suit, with a red waistcoat over a white undershirt, red-tipped white shoes, a red bowtie and pocket square, and a wide-brimmed white hat with a single black stripe, his antlers acting like hat pins to keep it secured to his fluffy head. She stands in stunned silence for a moment before squealing with delight and spinning him around.

“Oh my stars, don’t you look gorgeous!” She says.

“I believe I’m meant to say that to you, my dear,” he laughs, petting her back with his free hand hand. The other digs his microphone cane into the ground to prevent them toppling over, as can happen when Rosie forgets her strength.

“You can say that about me every day. I have to wait for you to clean yourself up, first, and don’t you just clean up so nicely!” She smooths out his coat when she finishes smothering him.

He bows for her to hide the anxiety in his amused chuckle. “And you, darling, just when I think you can’t possibly be any more beautiful. I can hear the hearts breaking already.” With his microphone tucked behind his back, he offers her his arm. “May I have the honor?”

She giggles, slipping her arm through his. “I suppose you’ll do.”

As a general rule, she avoids leaving Cannibal Town for prolonged periods. The peace her people enjoy relies on her as a permanent fixture. She can leave for a few hours to attend meetings or make social calls without worrying, but will return at the first drip of uncertainty. And, not for nothing, she spent a long time carving her own niche into this corner of hell. She promised the cannibals protection, and in exchange, they dedicated themselves to her vision. While not a utopia, the residents of Cannibal Town avoid the stress and suffering of other sinners by crafting their own reality.

Alastor spent an entire year as a fixed resident, but his ambitions and wanderlust coaxed him back out into the greater city, even as the shifting culture started to displease him. Cannibal Town’s singular place in time will turn into a safe haven for him, but for now, Pentagram City still has the best jazz clubs.

Some new developments leave him feeling sour, but he took to the evolution of jazz and swing into the 40s very well. They’ll jump, jimmy, jive, shake, shimmy, and swing until their feet fall off, or until they collapse, though she can’t see him ever tiring from dancing. Given the tension in his body for the entire walk to his favorite club, he needs the release. Slaying Overlords won’t fix everything—much to his chagrin, she imagines.

The arrival of the infamous Radio Demon brings the dancers to a halt, or tripping over one another, but the band plays on. Alastor tips his hat to the bartender, who waves a hand before grabbing a bottle off the top shelf. She allows herself a smug grin, something she may allow herself many times tonight. The last (and first) time she visited this club, when he found it several years ago, they treated him like anyone else. Now, with the identity of the Radio Demon known, he gets treated different everywhere, but the composure of the barkeep and the band suggest they see him as a VIP rather than a threat. The VIP treatment suits her well, too.

They start with drinks to assess the crowd, the bar patrons putting space between them. It thinned down a little when they entered. The standees all watch them, and the dancers keep eyes on them when facing in their direction. She wants to think it’s because they out-dressed everyone here—no one else even tried—but she can’t ignore the Overlord effect. Especially when Alastor’s antlers grow more points.

They finish their drinks after sizing up the place. Dismissing his microphone staff, Alastor bends at the waist and holds out his hand in invitation. She takes it, and lets him lead the way to the dance floor. The other dancers give them a wide berth. The band changes songs on a dime, starting them off with a classic Charleston number. With matching smiles they face each other and kick into the rhythm.

Weight falls off her with every movement. She watches Alastor shake weeks of tension out of his limbs. They never had the pleasure of knowing each other in life, but she gets a glimpse of his vitality when they dance. Bold movements of simultaneous control and abandon, colorful and vivacious and bursting at the seams with spirit. Dancing makes it easy to forget her ill fate, the pain and the sweltering heat and the personal torments and the insatiable, ravenous hunger that curses all of cannibal kind. Dancing with Alastor, though, makes her feel alive again.

For the first few songs they stick to fancy footwork and simple hops or skips. Exhausting themselves in the first thirty minutes of the night won’t do. They pace themselves as the band takes them through different styles of jazz and swing, challenging them to get creative. Building towards more demanding moves.

Years ago, the first time he tossed her, she went over his head and lost her grip on him. She expected to fall on him, or get dropped, but he caught her with ease and corrected her position to land her on her feet. After that, she trusted him with anything. She loves rolling over his back, or flipping upside down to kick her leg behind his neck. He often uses that momentum to flip her around his head instead of working against it, then spins back to his full height.

As if reading Alastor’s mind, the band transitions into a fast-paced jive with snappy drums and the type of taunting, choppy brass that precedes a wild tune. Rosie beams when she catches his pupils dilate in the dim light. They wink at each other and take their starting pose. Over years of improv, trial, and error, they perfected their own Lindy Hop routines. The slight points to his pupils tell her everything she needs to know about how he plans to lead, and her veins thrum with anticipation. He wants them to wipe the floor with everyone here. When the brass kicks to life, so do they. Pulling, pushing, circling, and twisting light on their feet with snaps of their arms and hands for balance and flair. The wind from her dress flowing with her movements sneaks a squeak of excitement past her lips before she can stop it. Their controlled chaos never threatens to bump into any of the other dancers, but the crowd clears the floor and forms a circle to watch with slacked jaws.

Alastor signals her for a lift. Well-past the point of warmups, she aligns their bodies and lets him flip her up and over his shoulder in a somersault. The crowd whoops and cheers, stress and tension giving way to fun at last. They join hands again to keep circling one another. Once they have momentum again, she signals him with a request to go low. She bends her knees and he whips her with one arm, her lead leg and free arm extending out to graze the crowd. Some scoot back to give her room, others reach out their fingers to meet hers. He leaps over her when she reaches him, spins into the movement, and scoops her back onto her feet.

They separate for a segment standing side-by-side to dance in synch. A chance to soak in the joy and wonder from the crowd cools the ache in their lungs. Rosie adds a few extra wrist movements to wave to those waiving at her. They transition to facing each other, mirroring one another’s kicks and flairs.

It takes Alastor hours to break a sweat sometimes, the fit bastard. Some strands of his hair cling to his forehead now—hers adhered to her skin after three songs. They breathe as one, steady and deep to fuel their frantic moves, their grins stretching to their maximum points. She keeps her eyes locked with his as long as she can. She loves him like this: the most candid of his smiles, the red of his irises consumed by blissed-out pupils, The Radio Demon left at the door. His right hand takes her left, his left hand pulls her in by her shoulder blade, and for a moment it looks like he means to kiss her. She hops and skips into the next steps, letting him push and pull her with the momentum from his larger frame. Their tempo increases in unison with the band, the frills of her dress almost invisible from the extra speed. The song ends soon, and she dares Alastor with her eyes for a big finish.

Delighted, he spins her by her arm above her head, and spins her, and spins her, stopping her by her hips with her back to his front. She bounces on her toes, then leaps as he lifts, kicking her legs out to clear his head when he tosses her up and over. His hands await her when she lands. One bunny hop to keep the rhythm, then she launches herself as high as she can, his arms twisting to help pull her into a somersault. When her hips meet his shoulders, he pushes out, allowing her to straighten her legs and flip straight up and down back over his head. For a few airborne seconds, their joined hands are their only point of contact.

Though she sees it upside down, the heartwarming smile he flashes vaporizes the last of her bodyweight. High on his smile, his scent, his energy, his unwavering, grounding grip on her hand that promises never to drop her, she relaxes into the motion and lets him guide her back to the floor.

She bends her knees to absorb the shock, rolls backward into his parting legs, and releases her hold on him. As he bends down, she continues rolling back, parting her legs and letting him guide them around his torso. With his arms hooked around her legs, she lifts from her core when he straightens his back, resulting in him swinging her straight out from his middle. They both release her legs so the lift lands her back on her feet, their hands joining in the air again.

She sinks to her knees again, pulling his arms with her. He goes over her shoulders this time, springing from the balls of his feet up and over. He rises to his feet out of the somersault in one fluid motion, hoisting her into his arms. She strikes a pose midair on the last beat of the song.

The crowd loses their fucking minds.

They bask in the glow of the whoops, cheers, whistles, and claps for a few seconds before looking at each other. Chests heaving, muscles aching, grins from ear to ear. Alastor’s hair got tousled during their big finale and his pupils still swallow up most of his irises. The static and crackles emanating from him get a little louder when their gazes lock. Heat rises to her cheeks.

She throws her arms around him and hugs him as tight as she can from her horizontal position. Laughing, he spins her around one more time to put her back on her feet. They join hands for a bow and curtsy, her free arm lifting her skirts while his tucks behind his back.

They head straight to the bar. Emboldened audience members follow to strike up a conversation. Someone offers to buy their first round so they can ask for pointers, questions about how much to prepare versus improvise, and improving their dancing in general. Someone else buys them a second round to keep the conversation going. It feels so good, so good, to have a normal conversation again outside of Cannibal Town. They both love the cannibals, and the Overlord treatment has its up sides, but others evading them when they go out to socialize gets frustrating.

Hours of dancing mix with top shelf booze, warming her from head to toe and liquifying her muscles on the way. Lightheaded, she leans against Alastor for support. His arm slips around her waist and pulls her closer, letting her head rest against the side of his. Her heart lurches, heat rushing to her face. From the booze. Definitely.

After a third round, Alastor and his unparalleled stamina look ready to keep dancing. He can drink himself senseless and still dance like he’s sober. With the way alcohol sloshes around in her stomach and her tendons wilt like noodles, she has to decline. Summoning his microphone, he offers her his arm, and they bid the club farewell.

With no sun down in hell, it doesn’t appear much different at night. The Pride Ring’s crimson red sky darkens some in the night hours, but the city’s bright lights keep it looking like daytime. Still, the crowd thins out at night, giving their walk a quiet start. She stays close to him to keep from swaying too much.

They walk past the movie house right as an audience leaves. Half of them light up smokes, puffing out clouds of putrid gas in their path. Alastor’s gums show through the disgusted curl in his lips. Rosie tries to make out the posters next to the ticket booth.

“Have you ever seen that Fleming fellow’s pictures?” Rosie asks.

“I haven’t,” Alastor says. “I never cared for them. I prefer the pictures in my head painted by the radio plays. If Orson Welles ends up down here Hell might finally get some culture.”

“I’m torn on whether to build a picture house in Cannibal Town. I know there’s interest, and you know I’d do anything for my clients, but where to put it, how to make it match,” she waves her hand in an et cetera gesture, “what to play. The worst of them get down here before the directors are even dead, like that Fleming fellow, and some of them are just garbage. Don’t watch Birth of A Nation.”

“Duly noted.”

“I think I saw a flyer for that one,” she nods towards the last poster on the end. “It looks like a romance. I don’t think I’ve seen a romance before, no one’s making those once they get down here. Wonder what he did.” The possibilities bring a smile to her face.

“Directed a romance?” Alastor says, earning a laugh from Rosie.

They walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way back to Cannibal Town. A low, dark saxophone tune reaches their ears when they round a corner, dancing around their heads as they approach. Alastor tosses a coin in the busker’s open case. They hold on a note to tip their hat, and the pair give courteous nods.

Rosie pulls Alastor into a tight embrace when they reach her front steps. “This was fun. I didn’t know how much I needed a night of dancing until we got there.”

His whole body turns rigid. Static and radio feedback try parting the alcohol fog in her brain. She knows Alastor’s dissonant relationship with touch, and her sober self usually waits for him to initiate or gives some indication first so as not to alarm him like he is right now, and she should let go, but his friendship makes her so goddamn happy—

—His hands rest on her shoulder blades, careful not to dig sharpening claws into her dress. Static dulls to a hum as the tension leaves his thin frame.

“It was a wonderful night, thank you for joining me,” he says. “I couldn’t ask for a better dance partner.” His hands slide down to the small of her back, then rest on her hips.

He snaps out of the embrace, tension back in full force. She blinks. With a bashful cough, he folds his hands behind his back and flashes his default charming smile.

“Have a good night, sweetheart,” he gives a slight bow before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Her mind struggles with what just happened. She regrets that last round as she heads inside to bathe, change, and try to commit the evening to memory so the alcoholic fog doesn’t make her lose anything. They must have made quite the pair on that dance floor with their coordinated colors and flawless routines. She removes her dress with care and hangs it back up in her closet after her bath.

A memory jumps to the front of her mind, of a split second where it felt like him pulling her in for a kiss. A delayed reaction to this hits her now. If he had meant to kiss her, she would have let him.

She climbs in to bed with a tipsy sort of befuddlement. He held a genuine smile the entire night and never once felt uncomfortable, until their hug goodbye, when he tore himself away from her and slipped a mask on. When his hands cupped the swell of her hips.

“Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh,” she slurs, and giggles to herself. Whether he intended to touch her there or not, either way, he spooked himself. A few more giggles bubble out from her.

“Dammit! I forgot to tell him about the cannibettes!” And then she passes out.

She rides the high of a perfect evening for several days. The next week, another young bachelorette books a session with her to ask for relationship advice. The new dating trend of seeing more than one person at once confuses and frustrates her. She wants to know how to tell the difference between someone looking for friendship and looking for a romantic partner.

“They do look similar nowadays, don’t they?” Rosie empathizes. “It comes down to intent. If you’re not interested in dating someone, but you think maybe they are, or vice versa, ask them for clarity. It might feel awkward, but it’s the easiest and most surefire way to set expectations.”

The rest of the day she spends working the floor of the Emporium. Assisting with garment fittings, helping people pick out the right snacks or raw ingredients, upselling her recipe book, and anything else her customers need. She has help on the weekends, but during the week she prefers running the store on her own to prevent downtime. Locking the door behind the last guest at the end of a long day on her feet brings immense satisfaction.

Not long after she secures the deadbolt, a swirl of black smoke slips under the door. Alastor materializes in a spiffy red and black suit. A solid burgundy coat and trousers over a black collared shirt, with a red bowtie and red-tipped black shoes. A visible sliver of the waistcoat suggests a more crimson red, with light red or pink stripes.

“Shop’s closed,” she teases, still counting the till.

“Pity,” he says, admiring his nails, “I had such grand dinner plans.”

“Should have planned better.”

He laughs, approaching the counter. “Well, since a nice home-cooked meal is out, how about this instead?” He holds out two tickets to the theater downtown, the same one they passed on their way to the jazz club last week.

She takes one of them. “You bought us tickets to the movie house?” She looks at him quizzically. “You bought us tickets to the movie house?”

“You pointed that one out on our way home last week, and tonight’s its last night. I thought you might like to go.”

“I do,” she says, “but do you? It’s a romance, dear. Your eyes twitch when you see couples holding hands near you.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “My mother listened to her romance stories on the radio all day, every day, my whole life. I’ll survive one more. They told me it’s based on a play, which gives me hope for the writing, at least.”

She beams. “You’re a peach, Alastor.”

His nose crinkles. “On second thought—”

“NOPE!” She grabs his collar so he can’t escape while she rounds the counter. “Too late! You’re coming inside for a snack while I get changed and then we’re going!” She chuckles as he stumbles along in her grip, knowing full well he could turn to smoke if he wanted out.

She fixes something quick for him to eat in the kitchen while she gets changed. She has a burgundy gown that deserves to go out for a spin. Pink chiffon on the neck and chest with black trim separating the neck piece from the body of the gown. A simple black tie at the waist adorned with a small skull accentuates her curves, matching the black stripes at the end of the skirt. The puffy red sleeves tighten into pink chiffon cuffs midway down the forearm. She pairs it with an umbrella and her favorite hat.

Alastor lifts onto the balls of his feet when she emerges from her room. “You look wonderful, dear,” he says with a soft smile, “I fear no one will be watching the picture but us.” He offers his arm.

“Always such a charmer,” she says, slipping her arm through his.

“Keep it up and I may have to marry you.”

“Oh, I’d never restrict like that. A woman of your integrity should never be chained down by a man.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she teases, “you’re just afraid of ending up like my first husband.”

“Your first three husbands, if I recall.”

They poke fun at one another and gossip their way down to the theater. They arrive early enough to wait in line for concessions, ordering a popcorn to share, two beverages, and some candy for Rosie. He lets Rosie choose their seats. When the lights dim and the opening title card announces Sol Lesser Presents: Our Town, he nudges her with his elbow. He reaches into his jacket to reveal a bag of fried fingers he snuck out of her kitchen to bring with them. He winks and takes one to nibble on. Giggling, she takes a few and snaps them into thirds to mix in with the popcorn.

She sneaks glances at him throughout the runtime. He puts on a good front, but his discomfort shows through at the most amorous scenes. The story takes its time setting up the romance of the main couple, from courtship to marriage. They both snack throughout, with him losing his appetite during the more amorous and poetic moments. His eye twitches at the first kiss. And every subsequent kiss.

The film lasts for an hour and a half. She enjoys staying for the trailers, but the fuzzy radio crackling emanating to her left encourages her to leave without them. Wrapping her arm around his confirms the tension in his body. His arm stays rigid at his side while they make their way to the front of the building.

Outside, he takes a deep breath, and exhales. He looks down at their arms. “Oh, pardon,” he says, relaxing his arm to free her from its death grip. They carry on walking with an appropriate hold. “I hope you enjoyed it, dear.”

“It was cute,” Rosie says. “Thank you for taking me, and for putting up with it. Even when I hear about things I rarely think to actually go out and see them. Maybe I should be getting out of Cannibal Town more frequently.”

“Not at all,” he says. “It’s where you’re comfortable and where you’re needed, no one will fault you for that. Live theater performances will always be superior to these picture shows, and Cannibal Town has some of the best theater in Hell.”

“All our props are real,” she laughs. “The film seemed harmless, though, and I overheard someone say the director’s not dead yet. I wonder what he’s doing up there that let us get it this early.”

“There’s a war on, from what I’ve gathered,” Alastor says. “I’ve acquired some fresh souls recently with the same type of shell shock I saw after the Great War.” He smirks. “Promise them never to have to fight in another war and they’ll shake your hand without even asking for a contract. It almost feels like exploitation.”

“Almost, eh?” She shoves him with her body. He shoves back.

Back at her home, she gives him a hug on the stoop again, with proper warning this time. He hugs back, still a little hesitant.

“Where are you staying right now, honey?” She asks as she pulls away, fishing out her keys to unlock the front door. “I know you move around a lot. You know if you ever need somewhere—”

“I’m set up at the radio station right now,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice, “I converted part of the second floor into a living area. Since they won’t be needing so many broadcasters anymore. But I appreciate your generosity, as always.” He takes her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I can’t say I enjoyed the film as much as you did, but your company is all I ever need. Have a good night, dear Rosie.”

“Goodnight,” she says, clear and calm despite the odd emotion caught in her throat.

He dissipates into a cloud of smoke, his shadow lingering behind to wave at her before catching back up with its master.

“Huh,” she breathes. That has so many wonderful implications, and she can’t wait to analyze all of them instead of sleeping tonight. He never fails to give her much to think about.

Dearest Rosie, I hope you’ve been well. As you may have heard from my broadcasts, I’ve been quite busy. Please allow me to treat you to lunch next Saturday afternoon. I know a good spot in Pride Rock Park where we shouldn’t get disturbed by any dissenters with no taste. I know you’ll insist on making something, but don’t strain yourself, it’s my treat to you. Yours truly, Alastor

Another Overlord falls victim to Alastor’s broadcast a few days after their outing. In all honesty, she expected this one to end up as one of his special guests a lot sooner. He treats each Overlord like an episode of an anthology series, spinning a tale for them that they will help perform by way of their screams and pleading for mercy. Some stories conclude in one broadcast, others take several days to conclude. This one, he savors. He switches between the little sketch he prepared and airing out the true reasons why this one ended up on his broadcast. All the distasteful transgressions that built up over years, most of which harmed others, not Alastor himself. How this one Overlord embodied so many things he cannot stand, and will not tolerate anymore. This one’s story took over the airwaves for nine days before reaching its conclusion.

Eight years in Hell, and Alastor has rewritten so much of it. Entire power structures, dominant for centuries, gone overnight in comparison to how long they endured. Every year his power grows, and each new voice on his broadcast demonstrates it. Though they’ll never admit it out loud—to each other or themselves—the other Overlords started fearing him long ago. He took nine days to declare even the oldest and most powerful among them shouldn’t get comfortable.

Rosie uses it as background noise to make her signature “strawberry” “lemonade” and brew sweet tea (unsweetened, though it always tempts her to sweeten it and watch Alastor’s face pucker).

His letter inviting her to lunch in the park told her not to go overboard, since he intends to treat her, but she knows he’ll forget refreshments. She also wants to try out a new recipe on him, so she makes enough for two. Extra plates, napkins, and silverware sit on the counter as a reminder. The last time he treated her to a picnic, he forgot to pack the utensils.

She rushes to the door the moment she hears the knock. “Come in, come in!” She exclaims, pulling him inside by the arm holding the picnic basket. She registers another new outfit on him, a red-on-red-on-black three piece that she will pick apart later. Peaking inside shows he remembered everything this time. “Oh good, we’ll actually be able to eat.”

“It was one time, and we still ate,” he says.

“After having to run down the street and buy new utensils.”

“Which I needed anyway.”

She makes room in the basket for the beverages. “Which you wouldn’t have still needed if you lived somewhere.”

“I do live somewhere,” he goads.

She waves kitchen knife at him before dropping it in the basket. “You’re lucky you’re cute, mister.”

“Why are you bringing that.”

“I’m not,” she suppresses the urge to laugh as she takes it back out and replaces it in the knife block, “that’s just how crazy you make me.”

He balances his microphone staff with the same arm that holds the basket so he can offer her the other. “Well, crazy loves company.”

“That is not how that expression goes,” the joy with which she takes his arm contrasts with her grumpy tone.

According to the plaque, Pride Rock Park takes its name from one of the stones cast at Lilith by Adam when she left him for Lucifer, which heaven threw at them again when they banished the couple to Hell. Casting stones became a common practice for punishment against sin. The rock in the park could crush an entire house, so either humans in the Garden of Eden started life as giants, or the rock here is symbolic.

They set up their blanket under a tree. Despite the heat in Hell not coming from a sun, settling under trees in parks remains a habit for a lot of sinners. The breeze off the toxic saline lake deters others from picnicking near it, but having both grown up by the ocean, they both find the scent pleasant.

Alastor throws down the blanket, using his microphone to hold down the side against the breeze. Rosie spreads out their meal. Her mouth waters at the sight of all the treats Alastor made. Cannibals all throughout hell know Rosie’s famous cooking, and will travel from halfway around the ring to get a taste. The fact that Alastor is a better cook than her—something she has said aloud to him with no shame—stays their secret. She takes great pleasure in knowing sides to him no one else will.

They start the meal in silence, savoring every bite and enjoying one another’s company without need of conversation. She tells at least one cannibal a month that sitting in silence with another person reveals a lot about your true comfort levels. She and Alastor can sit in silence together for hours: reading together, listening to the radio, or enjoying a picnic.

And yet, he seems… off. Stiffer than last time, unsure how to position himself, and unsure what to do with his hands when not holding a fork or plate. Each time he adjusts his position, he inches closer to her, but it also adds to his tension. She relaxes her posture, opening her body language more, and leans back. Mirroring her appears to take some of the tension out, but his gaze never quite reaches her eyes.

After finishing most of their meal, they sit back and enjoy the post-feast sluggishness. Some light helpings remain that they’ll pick away at before returning home. Both of them planned their day around this, intending to spend all of it here with each other.

“I’ve never actually seen a boat at that dock before,” he says, nodding towards the lake.

“Maybe someone drowned,” she says, amused by the thought.

Alastor stands and offers his hand. She looks up at him with suspicion. “Seriously?”

“It’s been an age since I was last on the water,” he shrugs, “care to join me?”

Her eyes stay narrowed, but she smiles, and takes his hand. She takes her parasol, and he conjures his microphone back into his hand, but otherwise, they bring nothing else with them. Lifting her skirts, she steps into the boat, keeping a hold on one of his hands until she sits. Once inside, he pushes them off the dock with one leg, and rows them out towards the center. The lake stretches long enough for them to lose sight of their belongings, but anyone stupid enough to steal from a cannibal cookout deserves what it gets them.

“The cannibettes have been all atwitter the past couple months,” she says as he rows them further and further, “took me days to figure out what had them all acting up.” She considers her words. “They got it in their minds that you were looking to court someone, so they all started asking for relationship advice and buying up my best clothes. I had no idea where they got that from, until I saw you with three new suits in a row and you took me to see a movie.” Rosie puts her head in her hand and smirks. “A talkie, no less, and a romance. You barely tolerate silent films, I know that was torturous for you.”

“Silent films at least have a dream-like quality to them,” Alastor lambasts, “you don’t get distracted by whatever drivel the characters say at each other. Why are we listening to something we’re meant to watch.”

She giggles. “I’m not saying I haven’t enjoyed all of this, because I have, very much. We became friends very quickly because we have a lot in common, and we trust each other, which isn’t something I take or do lightly. I think it’s safe to say we’re close to each other.” Her smile falls a bit. “I know you well enough to know you were uncomfortable that whole day, and again today. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

His eyes pinch as he tries to maintain a charming countenance. He pulls the oars in so he can let them go, then takes a moment to crack his back and stretch out his legs. One hand wipes down his face, shifting his expression to something conflicted. A smile that doesn’t understand the effort it takes to maintain. His hands dangle off his lap.

“‘There’s someone out there for everyone,’” he breathes down at his shoes, as if quoting or reciting a rule. “My mother always told me that everyone has someone. Another person they’re meant to fall in love with and marry. Despite raising me alone and never remarrying after my father abandoned her.” Those last few words come out in a slight snarl, his lip quivering to reveal some of his upper gums. “I had several acquaintances whose parents permitted me to call on them, or others who wanted to introduce me to their daughters, or so on. I tried a few times, but I didn’t really care to get to know any of them better, and mother always said I’d know when it was the right person.”

He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching at the bases of his antlers; a stress response, not one she sees often. He keeps his gaze pointed down. “Down here there’s a higher concentration of degenerates, but it’s much the same as up there, couples courting, marrying, having sexual relations, all of that.”

“And mariticide,” Rosie says.

That gets an amused huff from him. “That one I understand. My mother wanted me to be happy, and she was certain meeting ‘the right person’ was the key to my staying happy after she was gone. She died before she got the chance to see me marry, or have the grandchildren she always wanted. And I died young.” His fingers clench and relax as he talks, trying to grasp something that keeps slipping through the cracks. “Besides my mother, you’re the first person I’ve been this close with, in life or after. It didn’t require any thinking, so it took me some time to realize how much we’ve….bonded. How I enjoy your company.”

At long last, he looks at her. “How I trust you. I thought that was the ‘knowing’ she spoke of. And she had me read all the etiquette guides when I was a boy, so I’d know what to do for what came next. How to court a lady properly and be a gentleman so we might both marry for love, not solely as an obligation.”

“It doesn’t sound like you find any of it appealing,” Rosie says, keeping her tone soft.

“I find you appealing.”

“Oh, well thank you, darling!” She teases. “Don’t you just know how to butter a woman up. Learn that in one of your etiquette guides, did you?” He stares at her while she has a laugh at his expense. She chooses her next words with care, keeping her tone fond and earnest. “Alastor, sweetie, listen to me. You’re dead. None of those silly rules matter anymore. There’s no books to follow, no laws or societal expectations or cultural norms to force you into a position you don’t want to be in. Not for you or for me. As weird as it is to say, down here, we’re free of all that.”

She meets his eyes and holds them. “So, what do you want? Right now. For yourself, or for our relationship.”

He stays silent while he thinks, his hands still trying to close around something out of reach. “I think… I like us how we are. Is that… is that alright with you?” The worry in his eyes makes her want to fling herself across the boat to hug him, but she knows touch would overwhelm him right now. “I don’t… want any of this to have impacted our friendship, or to hurt you if you were hoping for more with me.”

“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself.” Oh, how she wishes she had her Rolleiflex to capture his bewildered, affronted expression. “I’m just kidding. No, I’m not upset at all. I like us how we are, too.” She smirks. “Why mess with perfection?”

Palpable relief washes over him. He sits up straight, smooths his hair out, and takes up the oars again. “My thoughts exactly. What do you say we get off this lake? I’m curious if anyone tried stealing our stuff and, frankly, I hate boats.”

“Why the blazes did you bring us out on a boat, then?”

“Saw it in a picture, once. My old boss at the radio station used to call them the devil’s handiwork, I’m starting to believe him.” He joins her in laughing, this time.

Back at the dock, he hops out of the boat with a fresh spring in his step, and offers his hand to help her step out. They return to their blanket to find nothing stolen, which almost disappoints them. A hunt would have made for a fine afternoon.

She sits against the tree, and he sits next to her, all tension dissipated. The difference in his demeanor feels light night and day. They watch the other sinners enjoy the park, commentating while munching on their remaining snacks and giggling like school children. He summons some books from his library for them to read. And when the food coma hits him the way she expected, he starts to slump into her. Putting her book aside, she pulls his head down into her lap, scratching his scalp with her free hand while the other brings her book back into view. He tries to continue reading but dozes off in less than a minute.

The large park sits far enough away from the city that, when night begins to fall, the park will darken some. When the incandescent street lights flicker to life, she wakes him. They pack all of the containers and plates up, fold the blanket, and lock arms for the walk back to Rosie’s. The loud, bright, bustling avenues of Pentagram City give way to the quieter, oil-lit streets of Cannibal Town not a moment too soon.

She expects him to resist coming inside with her, but he follows without complaint. In the kitchen, after he helps wash and put away her beverage containers, he pulls her into a hug. It stuns her, but only for a moment, before she hugs him back twice as tight.

“Thank you, Rosie,” he whispers.

She rubs his back. “Thank you, Al, for being the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” he mocks distaste, wrinkling his nose and standing up straight, “I don’t think I like this friends business, either.”

“Oh shut up,” she swats him with a dish towel, then flicks it at the picnic basket, “and hand me all that. You’re staying here tonight.”

“Rosie—”

“Nope. I’m not done with you. I don’t care if you’re staying at the studio, you fell asleep at the park, so you haven’t been sleeping at the studio. You sleep when you stay here, so you’re staying here tonight. Not up for debate.”

His shoulders sag in defeat, the fight leaving his body. He dries dishes while she washes, placing all of his belongings back in the basket when dry. The night clothes she keeps for him stay in the dresser in the guest room. When they retire for the night, he gives her a kiss on the cheek. His shadow stays behind to wave at her before joining him in the guest room.

“Huh,” she says again. More shadow behavior to ponder.

She takes her time with her night routine, starting with drawing a bath. As she removes her clothes and folds them on the counter, she hears the water turn on in the guest room. Smiling to herself, she slips in and soaks the day away, knowing her companion does the same.

Alastor shows little interest in connecting with the other Overlords, or many other sinners in general, but they gravitated towards each other early on, and haven’t left each other’s orbit since. Whatever the future holds for them, however their relationship develops from here, she has no expectations, but she knows one thing for sure: they’re going to have a bloody good time together.

[single-malt-scotch]

Bdubs' speech patterns & quirks

i made a post a while back about Bdubs' typing habits and ya know what. ill be a little stupid obsessed and unhinged again and do this one. might be useful for fics.

been watching this man from day one and im trying to throw together everything i can in my head. he really hasnt changed that much if we arent considering a shift of humor and energy-- but i will regard it at certain points for clarity of how his speech is handled.

General speech pattern

Through time Bdubs has gained more energy in his voice, and more confidence in how he speaks as a person presenting in his videos. But he still has his quirks, quirks that have remained forever.

biggest one. There is a big habit of stuttering in some sense. Either on the same words with the intended phrase:

Example: "You-- you don't- you don't understand!"

or a phrase that is altered during the stutter:

Example: "Yeah but-- you-- I don't think you get it..."

They aren't the stutters people default to in most cases (no "y-yes" "i th-thought.." etc-- in *some* cases you can throw this in but i suggest the bigger ones and never make it too frequent).

Theyre long and very obviously, and make him take longer to get his words out. sometimes it cuts his train of thought and he stops his sentences, maybe even starts over entirely.

in addition to that, bdubs also cuts words in a way i think most people will- goin', gonna, thinkin' etc. however at times he will enunciate the whole word for effect (plays into his "exaggeration" described below)

With his awkward pacing and stumbling, there are times where he fumbles and might say something in a "weird" way. sometimes, it becomes purposeful! he'll keep doing it when its funny, but you can tell its more of a slip than on purpose at first. there are far too many examples of this, but its obvious that he picked up the funny way of saying 'hermitcraft' on purpose at a certain point, for example. this may be hard to get across in writing however and its not as important.

bdubs loves to exaggerate. personality wise, hes like this obviously. and it plays into how he talks. boisterous is the best word. dont be afraid to go hard on the exclamation points or question marks! "!!" and "??" may describe what you want when you need to imply more of his noise.

Exclamations, regarding swearing

Bdubs doesnt swear anymore, but its worth addressing it, in context to what... replaces it, in a sense. or if youre writing something based in the years when he did swear.

Lets get one thing straight. bdubs does not say fuck. like, even back when he swore. there may have been some very light instances of words slipping (the old video where he completely bleeped out his words may have likely had that) but it is not how he spoke on the regular.

bdubs' most used 'bad' words were "damn", not as often "ass". he used a lot of 'safe' words-- shoot, crap (crapper, directed at someone/thing), frick (fricker, directed at someone/thing), dang ('dang man'), freaking (this is exclaimed very strong when it comes up, as if he was saying "fucking". comment phrase "very freaking funny!")....

these are the most frequent choices. id say bdubs has the capability of more swears, but it would be a last resort/under extreme duress.

Other notable phrases

Some of these fall under 'exclamations' at times, but i wanted to address the phrases he says in response to things, one subject is what people like him say in place of things like "oh god". you can see this in some hermits too, but bdubs does not say "oh (my) god". there is no exclamation of "god" when he needs to say something like this.

some are more or less frequent in the overall timeline, but you will likely hear...

"judas priest!" "oh goodness!" "oh jeez/jeezer!" if there is any phrase regarding god its a sorta "dont use the lord's name in vain" situation. none of the "oh god" stuff.

in terms of other frequent phrases,

"Trying my heart out/off" pops up a lot, and it means that he is trying hard at something whilst also saying he is 'putting his whole heart into it'.

Older/less frequent these days:

the good ol 'pet names'. it is/was never a super frequent thing (that bdubs/etho ooge video was surprisingly frequent...) "sweetheart" is most likely, "baby" but not always in a 'pet name' way, just a casual word to throw out at nothing. might get a "darlin'" in there too. the instance of calling someone specific those things is not super common, but still important to note.

a final notable one is "boy", directed at others in a more like. jokingly stern way. "What are you doin' boy?" a direct aim at a person, perhaps in a (joking) accusatory way at times? (wanted to comment there was an early ooge instance where etho picked it up as well lol). and imo i saw this way more in the early days, less so now.

Conclusion

bdubs has a variety of expressions in his speech. generally very relaxed and sometimes even careless, hes not tryin to focus too hard on every word he speaks. which is only natural! imo i think his personality is what affects this more than anything. hes silly, extroverted, and acts first.

his 'loudness' and stutter is important and it can be hard to express through words. outside of the way you describe the way he tackled talking in fics, seriously dont be afraid to double those punctuation marks imo. definitely dont be afraid of those big 'stutters'!! its probably the most defining part of his voice imo. i hope this is useful and feel free to add on or ask about it!

[intheholler]

i’m not from appalachia but i am from the south and the accent is definitely dieing (i am fucking determined to bring back this spelling) … rarely ever hear a young person with a heavy twang anymore, a light one sometimes yea. so sad its perceived as negative … nearly every time you see someone portray a dumb person in a joke they take on this stereotypical accent and its quite harmful really and they don’t even know … anyway sorry for coming in yer inbox and rambling but i’m interested in hearing what ya have to say about it

1) 2024 will officially be the year we bring back 'dieing' for good. god willing and the creek don't rise

2) 'what i have to say about it?' hahah *gestures broadly toward this ramblin blog*

no but in all seriousness, i believe the reason you don't hear that molasses-thick twang anymore is because young people in appalachia have better access to the outside world from an incredibly young age in a way we didn't even a few decades ago. used to be it required heading down the mountain to see what's what, and most can't afford that til they're older, if even then.

so now, we are taught younger and younger as impressionable babies to be ashamed of ourselves and by extension our accents, either from embarrassment of the stereotypes of where we're from, or because we're afraid people are gonna think we're "stupid" and not take us seriously.

without ever having to leave home, kids now can peer over the mountain sooner and see how people mock them and their accents. it doesn't cost any money to get online and see everyone calling you an inbred toothless hillbilly, to start feeling shame for something you didn't even know was being ridiculed--you--and work from them on to suppress your accent.

i was eight or nine the first time it was made known to me that people outside of home thought the way i talked made me "sound stupid" and i found out in person by a well-meaning family member. literally that same day i started trying to "talk normal" from then on out. i'm a young millennial, so internet was available to me but not in the way it is now. i can't imagine how it is for kids today.

i had a THICK accent as a kid. now, you can barely hear it even though i'm actively and consciously trying to relax the code switching muscle now that i am loving these parts of me again.

to your second point, i once saw someone say something (much more eloquently, and it's been years, so) along the lines of "tell a joke about someone you think is 'stupid'. do it aloud. what accent did you default to when you mocked them? now ask yourself why you did that."

only, no one wants to ask themselves that question. and so here we are.

i believe that that shame and mockery we have been wrongly saddled with from childhood is likely one of the biggest contributing factors as to why you hear a good strong accent less and less. and it fucking sucks.

3) come 'ramble' anytime!! love talking to yall and hearing your thoughts

[black-dhalias]

With All Due Respect…

Darius Deamonne X GN!Reader

Spoilers: The Owl House Season 2 Finale

Insolent idiots. Bumbling fools. Those were only two of the thoughts that plagued Darius as he reached the secret hideaway.

How could they be so stupid? Darius hardly even understood why he was so upset, its not like anyone went out of their way to throw things off. But getting the Owl Lady was supposed to be under wraps, a secret affair that never reached a scouts ear. Yet, noooo instead the Owl Lady and the human have to make a big deal out of everything.

Only things did not get better as he opens the door, because he is instantly under the hardened gaze of Y/N Y/L/N. Groaning he glances back at the group who is making their way up their stairs, eyeing Raine specifically.

“Ya know, the point of being against Belos is to not invite his lovely toys to secret meetings.” Darius glances over to see you raising an eyebrow, having forgotten about the book you were reading. “No offense.” You don’t take any, and instead shrug your shoulders and resume your book.

“What do you mean?” Raine questions before reaching the doorframe themselves and seeing you at the round table. It is terrifying. “Nevermind, I see.”

It is a butterfly effect, all of them stopping at the door as they see you. You don’t have to imagine their surprise, their stuttering tongues and inability to move prove all you need to know.

“Oh Titan…” You sigh deeply, looking up at Lilith, someone who used to be one of your only friends.

“Well since we’re all here—” There’s a rush of wind with a flick of your wrist, and the doors slam shut so everyone is shrouded away. “We have a lot to talk about.”

You kick back on your chair and smile up at them, only they do not find your gesture as endearing as you mean it to be. Instead, they are stiff as boards. "Three coven heads...A couple traitors...The human..." You click your tongue, "Honestly I'd hoped the revolution would be a moving force, but instead—" Your smile slips away as your expression falls, not into any particular emotion, just neutral. "My life and every life in the Boiling Isles falls in the hands of this—" You scrunch your nose as you stand, moving your hands. "This mismatched group."

You pause in front of Darius, "How pathetic." Who is probably the only one who is not trying to think of way to escape. You sigh loudly, rolling your eyes. "I'm not going to tattleeeeee..." You smile wickedly, "I want to help."

Darius watches you from across the room as you catch up with Lilith, you smile more than he would expect. You do not seem as dark and forbidding when you aren't surrounded by coven guards, you were always surrounded by coven guards though. That never made sense to him, because while you were high ranked and that often meant more powerful—you were never unaccompanied. It was as if— Darius stands up straight, no longer leaning on the shelves and walks over to you. His eyes flashing a neon green, to which you smirk and wave off Lilith, who looks between the pair before walking away.

"Belos is scared of you. Why?" You tut, quirking your brow as you gesture to the now open seat in front of you.

"Now why would you say that?" Darius swallows, now that he is close, he is reminded as to why you are so terrifying. It has a lot to do with your aura, it just radiates something more ancient than what you would expect of a normal witch from Bonesborough.

"Because..." He takes the seat, eyeing you suspiciously—you just seem so at ease right now, despite being the least trustworthy one in the room. You don't seem phased at all. "Because you were always heavily guarded, but you can take care of yourself. So being constantly underguard, was Belos' way of keeping track of you." He watches you roll the thought, and yeah it does make a lot of sense to you.

"I mean, that's a theory." You purse your lips in a thin line and nod. "Actually makes a lot of sense."

"Wait? Did you not know why????"

"I could care less if I was under guard or not—as you can see..." You gesture to the room that is coven guard free. "I can lose those cretins with my eyes closed." The way you speak sometimes, it just doesn't make sense to Darius, who had spent the better half of the hour in silence from that point on. Just trying to figure you out. Figure out your motives. And at some point, as he was just about to give up completely, he spoke again.

"So why are you here?"

"Because I'm a witch. Like you, and everyone else here. I'm not buying the whole living like royalty lies, and as an immortal being, I'd like to keep my magic. It makes this whole, living forever thing, kind of fun." You didn’t expect it, but he laughs, leaning back into his chair and smiling at you. Oddly entertained by your answer, and you laugh with him—which draws attention just briefly.

“Such an honest answer is not something I would expect from you.” You smile, shrugging.

“Well, with all due respect, Darius—you don’t know me much at all.”

[tellodona]

hello hiii dcd anon (i’ll just use 🤡 anon from now on its easier) here, i hope i’m not making too many requests i’m very sorry if i am

a thought i’ve had for like a while is how demon skin works like, i feel like it’s less stretchy and soft to the touch than human skin because demons are simply just tougher, and also it heals faster. so what i am trying to get at is that demons probably don’t have like stretch marks? it rarely gets to a point their skin would do such a thing and even if it does it heals very fast so it’s not ever acknowledged.

so what about mc with like an abundance of stretch marks? like i can somewhat confidently say at least 15% of my body is just purple lines everywhere so i wonder how would the brothers react to that? once again sorry if i’m doing too many requests

it's alright ! all your requests are so fun to do so don't feel bad about them ! they're topics that i really like learning about

the brothers with an mc who has stretch marks

heads up: gn!mc, hc that demons and angels alike get stretch marks when overworking

lucifer

is probably curious about it

"so you're telling me humans don't smoothen out their skin easily? i see, i see"

probably doesn't even care, if you're still alive even with that abundant of stretch marks, there shouldn't be any problems

he might think it's a condition you're not telling him though

he'll try to rub pride on you if you're insecure about them

you're great just the way you are, mc. your appearance isn't going to change the person you are today

mammon

"what the hell happened to ya?????"

pretends he isn't worried, but he totally is

he'd ask a lot about how you got them because as far as he knew, demons get them when doing lotsa strenuous work

so at first he'd say you're stupid and to stop overworking

when you probably tell him it's not because of that he blanks

he'll understood soon enough

but he'll bark at people who'd look at you weirdly

leviathan

he raises an eyebrow at you

dang, what happened?

wouldn't speak it out though, afraid you're insecure and you'd dislike him

if you're self-conscious about it and see someone with "better" skin than you, he'd feel envy off of you right off the bat

he'd try to comfort you as much as he can

he likes sewing, so if you're insecure, he'd sew some clothes for you to make you feel better and look "prettier"

you're already pretty/handsome/great/awesome/good in his eyes, mc

satan

"i've read humans don't heal easily like demons, but i didn't expect this..."

he didn't mean it in a bad way, though. he'd have to assure you, he's just curious

he thinks it makes you prettier, because it's unique on you

encourages you to accept yourself, because these don't make you less beautiful

he turns demons who make fun of you into shreds behind your back

asmodeus

oh, sweetheart! those marks look so beautiful!

this man sees art in everything, so it's like seeing some intricate designs on your body, and he absolutely loves it

he offers you some soothing lotions though, because he knows they're not normal

if you're insecure about it, he'll absolutely fight you because honey, you're so beautiful!

you shouldn't think that way, it makes him sad

spa days bi-weekly to help soothe your marks

he destroys every demon's social lives when they make fun of you even just once

beelzebub

oh, you have marks, mc?

he sometimes gets them when he exercises a lot, so it's nothing new to him

but why aren't they going away for you

oh right, you're human

you look nothing different to him, anyway, it doesn't matter to him

he'd eat the people who'd look at you wrong

belphegor

this is why you should always nap with him, mc, now look, you've got marks-

oh, they've always been there on you?

he'd grimace since he sees stretch marks as a sign of lack of sloth, but he wouldn't judge you

would always use it as an excuse to cuddle with you though

demons looking at you wrong? eternal sleep, it is

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS SO BUSY :SOB: IM SORRY THEYRE SHORTER TOO RGAHH